


Inferno Island (20th Anniversary Edition)

by Cassandra_Elise



Series: Mother Knows Best [2]
Category: The Avengers (TV 1961)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, British English, F/M, Mystery, Romance, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27927310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassandra_Elise/pseuds/Cassandra_Elise
Summary: Steed Gets Caught in the Current.Emma is All Washed Up.Story originally posted on FF.net. Newly revised for grammar and plot holes.
Relationships: Cathy Gale/Original Character, Emma Peel/John Steed
Series: Mother Knows Best [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808785
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. First Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "Mother's Knows Best" and will contain spoilers for that first story. Read out of order at your own peril. :)

**Teaser**

A small boat cruised smoothly on the blue sea, small waves emerging from underneath its hull. As two men threw out the anchor, the vessel slowly came to a complete stop. A deep-sea diver stepped onto the edge of the ship and asked his companion, "All clear to dive?" His friend nodded in response. The diver put his mask on, turned on his oxygen, and lowered himself off the diving platform into the clear waters.

The man dove down into the crystalline sea for several yards until he reached the bow of a large sunken ship. He approached it cautiously, making sure not to hit his head on one of the protruding planks.

Suddenly a bright light shone from an underwater cove nearby. A powerful surge pushed the poor diver into a sharp piece of plank wood, and he immediately lost unconsciousness, falling to the bottom of the sea.

Above the surface, the diver's companion likewise felt the force. Suddenly the boat flipped over, spilling him into the water. Water swirled around him as he grappled for air. After much struggling, his lungs filled with water, and he drifted to the bottom of the sea like his diving friend.

The strong current and blinding light continued to make chaos for several minutes before both stopped.

The two men were dead, and their boat was shred to pieces. Nothing was left of the diving team in the now tranquil water. Beyond the serene waters loomed a large landmass that belonged to a nearby archipelago.

**Inferno Island**

**Steed Gets Caught in the Current**

**Emma is All Washed Up**

**First Morning**

Mrs. Emma Peel strolled down the pavement, casually glancing into each store window she passed. It was wonderful to have a quiet afternoon to herself, doing nothing except to take a neighbourly ramble down the street. An autumn breeze scattered freshly fallen leaves all over the paths. Emma inhaled the scent of fall and carelessly glanced at one of the displays at a hat shop.

A man was hanging a large sign with big, red letters pasted across the front. Emma thought nothing of it, until she did a double take at what the sign said. It read, "Mrs. Peel . . ."

The man hung another sign that said, "We're needed." The man lifted his head, and Emma realized he was John Steed. He tipped his bowler playfully, beckoning her inside.

Emma was somewhat annoyed and amused at Steed, as she always was when he told her that they were needed. She still had no idea how he managed to know where she was all the time. She knew that being a secret agent must have something to do with it. With a little bemused smirk, she headed into the store.

Emma approached Steed, who was busily removing the signs from the front window. "Well?" she began.

"Well, what?" Steed asked nonchalantly as he leaned the two signs against the wall.

"Well, what murder was committed this time?"

"Shh, spy talk is very hush, hush." Steed wandered over to a bowler hat display, Emma lagging behind him. He looked around himself, making sure no one had heard anything.

Emma enquired, "Is it a dozen bodies and no suspects?"

"Actually, it's two weeks on a tropical island and no suitable clothes."

"Is this trip for business or for pleasure?"

"It's a business trip, but I hope to have some pleasure on the side." Steed smiled pleasantly, revelling at the thought of endless days with beautiful girls in a tropical paradise. "There's been several reports of," he and Emma looked around themselves for eavesdroppers, "divers being killed near a little island in the Caribbean."

"Is there any connection among all the divers?"

"Yes, they were all looking for the Fabled Treasure of Pirate Arme Buccos. He supposedly was a pirate during the eighteenth century, who confiscated about 500,000 pounds in gold and silver."

She whistled admiringly at the large sum. "Who or what killed these divers?"

"Nobody knows for certain, but the islanders believe that a great force pulled them under and whirled them around, causing them to lose consciousness and eventually die."

"What sort of great force could do so much damage?"

"That's what I’m being sent to investigate. A man, who was nearby at the time of the deaths, claims he heard a strange whirring noise, accompanied by a bright light. We’re fearing a man-made object."

"It's all very puzzling. I don't know what to make of it."

"That's why I'm going to investigate. Now which bowler should I buy for the trip, the black or the gray one?" Steed gingerly lifted both of the hats and stared at her expectantly.

Emma grabbed both hats and put them down. "Steed, of all the necessities you need to enjoy on a tropical island, bowler hats are not one of them."

Steed smirked at her comment but wisely didn't make a derogatory reply. Instead he said, "Well, I asked you for your assistance in finding the proper clothing, so what should I bring with me?"

Emma seemed to be mulling over something important, for she didn't answer. "I've been thinking, Steed. You need someone else to go with you on this case, someone who can not only help you solve it, but someone to keep you company when you're across the sea."

"That's a wonderful idea, Mrs. Peel," Steed replied affably. In a deep voice he said, "The plane leaves at one this afternoon. How long does it take you to pack?"

"An hour at the most," she replied in a dulcet tone.

Steed tipped his hat politely and declared, "I'll pick you up in two hours."

"I'll be waiting for you." Emma pranced assuredly out the door, her reddish brown hair bouncing with each step.

Steed gazed admiringly after her, and then took the two bowlers to the front of the shop to purchase them. He didn't care what she said; a bowler hat was a necessity anywhere.

****

Dr. Catherine Gale scanned the busy museum and sighed happily. She loved her job as a curator almost as much as her job as an amateur spy. She remembered how Steed had first asked for her assistance at this same museum when she was a docent*. She had been eager to have some adventure and had agreed to help him, not knowing how crude and callous he could be. She and Steed made a rather strange crime— solving team, since they were almost opposite in every way. But over the course of time, they had grown accustomed to each other's habits.

Perhaps Steed had grown rather fond of her, but Cathy never had the same feelings for him. True, she was a widow and could have fallen for the dashingly handsome man, but she hadn't. Maybe it was because she couldn't stand his caddish ways, or maybe it was the fact that Steed had been engaged to another woman. Yes, John Steed had proposed to a woman by the name of Emma Knight, and the same year, he had been brainwashed by the head of the ministry to forget. His poor fiancee had been brainwashed to think she was the widow Mrs. Peel**.

Cathy could easily forgive Steed's boorish, flirtatious ways since she knew it wasn't entirely his fault. For two years she had helped him solve numerous mysteries, saving his life more than once. Then she went on to several jobs until she was back to being a curator, enjoying the less than dangerous lifestyle. As a world-renowned anthropologist and markswoman, she knew that if she ever got bored, there was a world of opportunity waiting for her.

A stranger approached her and interrupted her thoughts. “Excuse me, could you please tell me about this artifact?" he asked her.

Cathy smiled briefly and went to the assistance of the stranger.

****

After Cathy had left Steed, Emma had become his second partner in crime fighting. Then a murderer arrived, claiming to be her presumed dead husband, and Miss Tara King had become Steed's third partner. When he and Emma had learned the truth about their engagement (and of Emma's fake husband), Tara had been paired up with Basil Creighton-Latimer, who was the nephew of the head of the ministry so that Emma could continue working with Steed.

The head of the ministry, Mother, had threatened to brainwash them again if their romantic relationship interfered with their work, but so far Steed and Emma had continued operating as they always had. While Tara was still partnered with Basil, she retained a friendship with Steed that was the envy of every single gentleman. Only someone as self-possessed as Emma Knight, fondly called “Mrs. Peel,” by Steed who couldn’t break the habit, would be fine with a young, beautiful woman gallivanting around with her beloved.

If Tara was any sort of decent person, she would have toned down her relationship with Steed. But she was in love with him and selfish. She was also young, twenty-two years to be exact, so her behaviour was understandable.

Tara headed over to Steed's flat, eager to go out to lunch with him. She smoothed her red pantsuit and rang his doorbell expectantly.

Steed answered it on the second ring. He was clutching the doorknob with one hand and holding a rack of ties in the other. He stared at her blankly for a moment and then said sheepishly, "We had a luncheon appointment today, didn't we?"

"You'd forgotten?" Tara cried incredulously. "You, who remembered the exact date we met, the year of the champagne we drank three weeks ago, how many bowler hats you've owned in your lifetime, forgot we were having lunch?"

"I'm sorry, but I was assigned to a new case in the tropics! I'm leaving today, and I had to pack immediately." Steed started climbing the stairs to his bedroom, but Tara checked him.

"Oh, Steed, why didn't you tell me you were going! Here I was, thinking you were being inconsiderate by forgetting our date, when all the while you were just teasing me."

Steed slowly descended his spiral staircase, staring confusedly at her. "I don't quite follow you."

"Why, you're taking me with you, aren't you? That’s why you planned this elaborate lunch meeting."

"I—I…you're right about one thing. I am taking someone with me to help me with the case, but it's not you." Steed smiled nervously, waiting for a response.

Tara's face fell to the floor and her lip began to quiver. She waited a moment to control herself and then asked tearfully, "You’re taking Emma, I gather?"

Steed tried unsuccessfully to answer her without hurting her more than she already was. “She is my partner after all, in more ways than one.” He made a feeble attempt to change the subject. "Would you care for a glass of champagne?"

Dumbfounded, Tara stared at him, and then she let out an exasperated sigh. "I can't believe you, Steed! Taking Emma with you to a tropical paradise is exactly the sort of trouble Mother is hoping for. He’ll use any untoward behaviour to part you two forever. I find this very selfish of you, after all I’ve done to protect you and Emma…"

"What are you carrying on about? Who said what we’re doing is untoward?" Steed glared at her, demanding an explanation.

Tara stopped her ranting and grew wan. "Nobody yet," she faltered quietly, “But you need to guard your movements carefully.”

"Hmm," was all Steed said. "Since my plane leaves at one, and it's half past eleven now, I suggest you hurry along so I can finish packing." Steed started ascending his stairs again. "I should have picked up Mrs. Peel by now," he muttered as he entered his bedroom.

Tara stood at the foot of the staircase. Despite what the rumours at the agency might say, she had never entered Steed's bedroom. As much as she wanted to follow him, she still viewed his private chambers as sacrosanct and verboten. "If you think this conversation is over, you’re gravely mistaken," she shouted. Then she flounced out of the apartment.

If Steed ever heard her last remark, he made no reply. He merely finished packing and ran out the door.

****

Mother had never seen Tara this depressed before in his life. That's why when she peeked her head into his office, looking for his nephew, he knew something was seriously wrong. "What happened?" he demanded as he glided over to her in his wheelchair.

Tara realised too late that her face was revealing her emotions like a blundering amateur. “Nothing,” she lied. “Is Basil around?”

“Shouldn’t you keep better track of your partner?”

“I had no problems when Steed was my partner,” she mumbled. Unfortunately, it was loud enough for Mother to hear. 

“Speaking of Steed. Do you know if he left yet for Paradisa Island?”

“He was on his way to pick up Miss Knight.” She chose her words carefully, hoping to mask the anxiety that she felt. 

“Wonderful! We’ll soon be able to prove that those two aren’t as professional as they pretend to be. How can two agents in a setting like that _not_ indulge in… disturbing... activities?”

Tara jumped to her friends’ defense. “I mean, they’ve done it before, like the several times Steed took Emma to France, and then there was that time he took her to Scotland for that case... "

"But that was when they were programmed to think Mrs. Peel was unavailable. Naturally, they were more careful." Mother puffed on his cigar. "No, this time I'm going to send Mitchell after them!"

"What will Mitchell do to them?" Tara enquired warily. She had the vaguest suspicion that Mother was planning to do something drastic, something that even she couldn't agree to.

Her apprehension was verified when he explained to her, "Mitchell will watch their behaviour closely, and if he thinks it is out of line with our ministry policies, he will take Miss Knight back to England with him, using physical force if need be. Then, if Steed and Emma continue to behave in such a romantic fashion, we'll separate them permanently… by brainwashing them again, of course."

Tara stared at him, utter turmoil wracking her mind and heart. As much as she wanted Steed for herself, she could never in good conscience be with him if it wasn’t by his own free will. She held her breath and forced her head to nod in agreement. “It looks as though you have a plan. Excuse me, I must find Basil.”

She walked out of his office and down the hall right into a tall, brawny man. "Oh, Smyth, I didn't see you!" Tara exclaimed to the dark haired man in front of her.

"That's quite obvious, Miss King." He stared at her indifferently, his British propriety getting the better of him.

Tara meditated briefly as to whether she should tell Smyth the dastardly plan Mother had in store for the Steed and Peel. Smyth was one of the few other agents, besides Cathy and now herself, who thought that brainwashing was an erroneous procedure. Finally she uttered in an almost inaudible voice, "Steed and Emma are in grave danger, Smyth. Mother is planning on separating them indefinitely. We've got to stop Mother from sending Mitchell to Paradisa Island."

Smyth smiled grimly and replied, "I'll get Cathy, and then we'll see what we can do. When does the plane leave for the Island?"

As if to answer his inquisition, Mother wheeled out of his office with Mitchell close behind him. "The plane leaves at one, but I don't think you can make it," he told Mitchell. "There's another plane that leaves at ten in the morning tomorrow. Be sure you're on it."

"Yes, Mother, as you wish," Mitchell answered dutifully.

Before they could be spotted, Smyth and Tara went their separate ways. It would be too conspicuous if they were both standing together in plain sight. Mother might realise they were scheming to sabotage his plan.

Smyth drove over to the museum immediately after his conversation with Tara. He spotted Cathy only a second after he entered the building and advanced towards her quickly.

Cathy's face lit up at the sight of Smyth, who was her beau. She instantly turned solemn at the sight of his grim face and asked, "What are they doing to Steed now?"

"Oh, nothing much; Mother's just going to separate him and Emma forever."

Cathy rolled her eyes in disgust. "Won't Mother ever learn that he can't win people's respect by controlling them? Furthermore, can't Steed fend for himself?"

"Unfortunately, he can't under the circumstances. It's best not to grumble, my love, and just do our best to help them. Now, Steed and Emma are leaving today at one—" the clock began to chime one o'clock in response— "and Mitchell is following them tomorrow. My plan is to detain Mitchell and go on the airplane instead of him. Tara will be helping us so—"

"Expect everything to go amiss." Cathy sighed and shook her head. "The things I have to tolerate in order to save you, John Steed."

****

Steed smiled as Mrs. Peel hopped into his old Bentley. She stuffed her luggage in the back, turned to face him, and smiled. Suddenly, she clutched her forehead.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Peel?" Steed asked, genuine concern in his voice.

Emma breathed heavily for several minutes and then attempted to smile reassuringly. "I'm quite all right, Steed. I just got a bit dizzy for a moment, but it's nothing to get upset over. I probably moved too quickly when I hopped in.” He was staring at her, unconvinced. “If you want to let me off right now, I can understand. The last thing you need is for your partner to come down with an illness while on the case."

"I wouldn't dream of doing any such thing, just as long as you think you can manage?"

"I think I can just pull myself together." Steed’s expression let her know he was still not convinced. "You'd better start driving, or we'll never get to the airport on time," she reminded him, and finally Steed shifted the car into gear.

Emma was more concerned than she pretended to be, for she had never been one to feel dizzy. Her constitution did not improve any on the long flight across the Atlantic, and by the time they landed in New York, Emma was tired and sicker than before. She thought she hid her illness quite effectively, for Steed didn't ever ask how she was feeling.

However, Steed was still very much aware of her sickly state, and he was beginning to wonder if he should have brought her along in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Originally, Cathy was going to meet Steed for the first time in the Episode "Warlock," where she was seen working in a museum. The episode was eventually aired out of order, and the introductory dialogue was scrapped. But my head canon is still that the two met when she was a docent.
> 
> **See my first fic, Mother Knows Best.


	2. Second Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steed makes a friend.  
> Emma makes an enemy.  
> Tara makes a distraction.  
> Cathy makes a break for it.

Cathy furtively searched the airport terminal, her face concealed behind a newspaper. From his nearby vantage, Smyth stood solemnly and sedately. Since Smyth was disguised in a mustache, a grey derby, and glasses, it was difficult for Cathy to recognize him.

The two, plus Tara, were waiting for Mitchell to arrive. The plan was that before Mitchell could board the plane leaving for Paradisa Island, Tara would distract him and detain him. Meanwhile, Mrs. Gale and Mr. Smyth would board the plane, unbeknownst to Mitchell. After Tara had completed her job, she would go home and wait for further instructions from Cathy and Smyth.

As a dozen of agitated thoughts filled her head, Cathy started pacing the floor, but checked herself just in time. What if they had missed Mitchell, and he was already sitting comfortably on the airplane? What if he had gotten wind of their scheme and had decided to take a private plane to the island? Mrs. Gale sighed and nearly stomped her foot in frustration.

Smyth was much more serene compared to the amateur spy, Cathy. In fact, he seemed almost bored of the whole procedure. Suddenly, Smyth became alert as he spotted Mitchell sauntering jauntily across the floor. To inform Cathy, Smyth gave an unnoticeable signal: he flicked his right hand ever so slightly.

In return, Cathy made an inconspicuous gesture to Tara, who had been hidden in a telephone booth for the last twenty minutes. Casually, Cathy brushed some of her blond hair behind her left ear and waited. In a matter of seconds, Tara emerged from the booth and walked right in plain view of Mitchell. The plan seemed to be running very smoothly.

Mitchell marched towards the awaiting plane, but stopped short at the sight of Tara King advancing in the same direction. "Tara, baby, what are you doing here?" When it came to flirting, compared to Mitchell, Steed was an angel. Mitchell smiled debonairly at Tara, oblivious to the fact that she was his nemesis at the moment.

Tara used Mitchell’s sexist assumption that all women were brainless to aid her in her act. "I want to help you and Steed, so I decided I'd surprise you both by sneaking onto the plane!" She feigned a naive smile and waited for the inevitable reaction.

Mitchell dropped his suitcases in alarm and began to stutter. After several indistinguishable sentences, he managed to say, "Listen, love, you cannot, under any circumstances, go with me, you understand? This is an assignment for the strong, sturdy, and brave agents."

Tara thought of a quick lie and spoke it with genuine sincerity. "I'm brave and sturdy as the— what do you call it?—Rock of Gibraltar!" To emphasize the point, Tara hefted one of his suitcases onto her shoulder. Without planning to, she dropped the heavy luggage with a groan. She rubbed her arms in sheer pain.

While Mitchell leaned over to assist the afflicted Tara, Smyth and Mrs. Gale quickly grabbed their luggage and scuttled to the appointed airplane. Ten minutes later they were seated in the back row, alert in case their plan went amiss.

Meanwhile, Tara had begun babbling, something she wasn't accustomed to doing. She ranted about the modern technology that allowed man to travel the globe in such a short period. She raved about the beauty of planes and their structures. After several minutes of blathering, Tara had to look at the ceiling as if it might help her find the right words to continue. She gasped for air, and the dumbfounded Mitchell started to walk away from her. Tara dashed after him, and in an attempt to stop him, shouted, "Please, don't leave me, darling!"

Mitchell's head, along with numerous others, turned to stare at her. "Was it my imagination, or did you call me 'darling'?" he asked, pleasure noticeable in his voice.

Tara flushed violently and replied, "I don't—I mean, I wasn't paying attention to what I was saying. It must have been a little slip of the tongue and all that."

Mitchell smiled and approached her, while she began to back up. "I think it was a Freudian slip, my love." He flashed his pearly white teeth once more and chuckled in delight.

Tara heard a plane lifting off into the air. If that wasn’t the plane to Paradisa Island, that was just too bad. She was not going to be accosted a second longer. She smiled tentatively, not wanting to encourage the indomitable flirt, and then made a mad scurry for the door. In her haste she ran  _ into _ the door, not out of it. Tara swore she saw stars before her world went black.

****

Tara opened a weary eye and gazed at her surroundings. She was on the airport floor, enveloped by incalculable bystanders, all staring curiously at her. There, rubbing her hand was Mitchell, who was murmuring quiet apologies to her.

Tara lifted her head slowly and felt a twinge of pain in the front of her face. She moaned softly as she noticed the aching in her arms for the first time. "What happened?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

"You ran into the door and have been out cold for five minutes," was Mitchell's automatic response. He looked at his watch and frowned. "And I've missed my plane!"

Tara likewise peered at his watch and noticed with some glee that it read three minutes past ten a.m., the appointed departure time for his plane. "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry. I suppose you'll have to wait until tomorrow to go on your assignment."

"My ticket is only good for today, and I'm positive Mother won't pay for another plane ticket. They're so expensive these days!" Mitchell whinged, his voice rising on each syllable. 

Tara's light blue eyes turned sympathetic, for she knew that Mother was apt to get in a fit of rage since Mitchell botched up his assignment. "There might be another flight today. Go see if you can trade in your ticket for the next one.”

“Mother will kill me,” he muttered. 

“I'm sorry, and I hope this won't hamper our professional relationship." She arose slowly and, smiling courteously, exited the vicinity. Tara had completed her mission successfully.

****

Steed and Emma arrived in Paradisa, and it was not surprising that they were both exhausted. Their internal clocks told them it was time for bed, but it was still late afternoon in the Caribbean. Steed longed for a good glass of brandy to help his nerves, and Emma wanted to relax in her hotel room for the remainder of the day.

"Here is your appointed room, Sir," a kind Afro-Caribbean porter told Steed.

Steed sighed with satisfaction at the suite and strolled over to a large window. "What a beautiful room this is, with a beautiful view of the," he lifted a curtain, "car park?"

Emma joined him at the window and peered at the myriad of cars below them. "Maybe later on we can watch the heat waves rise and fall on the gravel while the sun sets in the background. Won't that make a picturesque scene?"

"Well, I don't think I'd use those terms," Steed muttered irritably.

"Care to see my room, or do you think the windows look out on the same lovely landscapes?" Emma asked dryly.

"I'll be more than happy to accompany you to your room." Steed brightened up a bit and added, "My lady, thy chambers doth await thee." Emma held out her hand regally, and Steed held it with equal dignity as he escorted her across the hall. The porter studied them strangely, utterly confused.

Emma's view appeared to be much more rewarding. It gazed out at a perfectly golden beach, luscious green palms, and the crystal, blue sea.

After the porter had placed all of Mrs. Peel's luggage neatly against the wall and had departed, Steed turned to his associate. "I'll exchange my room and three bottles of champagne for your room," he offered earnestly.

Emma laughed at his childish behaviour. "It may surprise you, but I rather fancy this room with the lovely view of the ocean to yours." 

“Well, then how about we share accommodations?”

Emma smirked. “I don’t think your Mother would approve.”

Steed’s mother had passed on, so he knew she was referring to the head of the ministry. He placed a hand on his chest. “It would be completely honourable. I could take the sofa, and—”

“We’ll just explain to every maid and porter that enters this room that it’s all perfectly platonic,” she pointed out the flaw in his plan.

Steed began to grumble and to avoid an argument, Emma asked, "From this resort, how far is it to the scene of the crimes?"

"The strange incidents were reportedly seen about a quarter of a mile down that beach from here." Steed pointed out the window at the seemingly perfect beach below. It was difficult to believe that murders had been committed on the heavenly isle. "All the diving gear was borrowed from a little scuba shop and school that is located several miles from the resort."

"Do you think it has some sort of connection to the deaths?"

"I'm not sure about anything at the moment; that's why I'm going to have a look around. Why don't you enquire about scuba lessons down at the shop?"

"I'm not feeling very well, and I'm tired, Steed," Emma declared in a pitiful tone. "Why don't you investigate by yourself this time? I'll meet you down in the lobby, and we can go to dinner somewhere in the resort. All right?"

Steed had never heard Emma use that excuse in order to get out of a job. He glanced at her warily and was astonished at how exhausted she looked, as if she would topple over in a matter of minutes if she didn't sit. He conceded to her fervent entreaty, and went to change into some cooler attire.

When Steed was dressed in a very un-Steedish outfit, which consisted of slacks and a polo shirt, he went to explore the area himself. He wandered into the lobby and enquired of the receptionist, "Excuse me, but how do I get to the scuba diving shop from here?"

The receptionist pointed to a side door and explained, "When you go out that door, you will be by the pool and Tiki bar. Take a turn to the right and— "

"I'll reach the scuba shop?" Steed asked.

"No, you'll see the little patio cafe and grill. If you want to get to the scuba diving shop you must follow the sandy path by the cafe, and that will lead you to the beach. Take a right turn and head along the coast for a half mile, and you'll soon reach it."

After hearing such confusing instructions, Steed wasn't sure he could find the beach, but he did. He leisurely strolled down the beach, his casual shoes sinking into the golden granules of sand.

Suddenly, he heard angry and demanding voices coming toward him. "Larraine, you are being unreasonable," a male voice complained. "All I want is my fair share of the family inheritance."

"How many times do I have to tell you that you are not closely related enough to the Crabbe family, and therefore don't get any of the treasure?" a female voice replied peevishly.

At the word "treasure," Steed began to listen even more intently. However the argumentative couple had spotted Steed and immediately went their separate ways.

Disappointed, but not undaunted, Steed trudged farther along the beach. Finally, he spotted the scuba diving shop in the far distance, and soon he was on the front stoop.

The building was dark and deserted, but this did not discourage the indomitable spy for a moment. Steed glanced warily around, making sure no one was in sight, and then tried the door. It was unlocked, so he let himself into the shop.

The store smelled strongly of saltwater and rubber, the rubber odor being from the masks and some of the other gear. Steed waited a moment for his eyes to become accustomed to the darker building. However, it didn't take long since there was a window emitting the sun's rays into the room.

He was about to investigate the premises, when he was tackled to the ground. "I thought I told you the treasure wasn't in here?" a familiar voice demanded.

Steed looked up at his attacker and beheld a very voluptuous woman in her early thirties. He realized she was the woman he had seen on the beach earlier, the one called Larraine. "I do beg your pardon!" Steed replied in his distinguished voice.

Larraine looked utterly sheepish as she climbed off him. "I'm terribly sorry, Sir," she said with a distinctive English accent.

"You're British!" Steed exclaimed incredulously.

"So are you," she replied smartly. "My name is Larraine Crabbe, great-great-great-great grandniece to Arme Buccos. I own this shop with my father, and we each teach a bit of diving ourselves." Miss Crabbe moved behind the store counter and began rearranging several deep- sea equipment pieces. She looked up from her work and asked, "The shop was closed for lunch, so what were you doing in it?"

Steed was prepared for this inquisition, so he answered, "I wanted to rent some scuba gear, and since the door was unlocked, I thought the store was open. I was looking for some assistance when you assaulted me."

Larraine seemed to believe him, for she apologised profusely once more.

"I don't really mind being attacked by a woman," Steed replied flirtatiously.

Miss Crabbe rolled her eyes, not amused. "You're just like Paris."

"I've never been compared to a city before, but I guess being compared to Paris, France is all right."

"Paris is my fourth cousin twice removed on my mother's side. He's American, but he was born in Paris. His real name is Alfred, but his parents nicknamed him Paris, which he was really grateful for."

Steed listened to this whirlwind of information, wondering what it had to do with him. Finally she stopped, and he was able to ask her, "I saw you on the beach, and I couldn't help overhearing you mention something about a treasure. You can't mean that Arme Buccos' treasure belongs to you?"

"It does indeed, though Paris seems to think it's partly his and his family's. What right does an American have in owning British treasure?"

"What right indeed?" Steed agreed just to be polite. "Tell me, if you're so against America, why aren't you back in England at this very moment?"

"Why, my father brought me down here when I was a little girl, shortly after my mother died. All his life he's wanted to get the family treasure, and all his life he's failed. For ten years, I've been helping him, but it's been to no avail. Now with all of this publicity, I'm sure we're never going to find it."

"You said you're only a great etcetera niece. Aren't there closer relatives than you?"

Larraine bristled at this comment and snapped, "There certainly is not, and don't you be forgetting it!"

"There now, don't yell at this stranger, Lara! You only yell at the ones you love!" A young man entered the building, a cocky air about him.

"Paris, get out of here this minute!" Larraine looked ready to strangle the brawny fellow, and Steed was certain that she was capable of doing it.

"I came to get my scuba gear, and don't be denying me that privilege like yesterday." Paris slid over the counter and began grabbing various instruments and articles of clothing.

"May I rent some as well, Miss Crabbe?" Steed asked in his debonair way.

"No, no, no, man, just call her Larraine. She hasn't been called 'Miss Crabbe' since college, and that was  _ many _ years ago." Paris grinned foppishly as he hefted a big oxygen tank onto his shoulder.

Larraine almost screamed at his insulting manner, but she composed herself enough to say, "Do you need any lessons on how to deep sea dive?"

Steed smiled and replied, "No, I've had a lot of experience. I think I can manage." Steed had learned how to scuba dive when he had trained to be a spy. He couldn't do it for a living, but he was capable of diving in perilous waters if the need arose.

"Very well, sir, I'll just have to get a few measurements so I can select the perfect suit for you. I hope you won't mind." Larraine held out a measuring tape, waiting expectantly.

"I wouldn't mind at all." Steed grinned impishly as he extended his arms to the side.

Paris scoffed at Steed's conduct, but he didn't say anything about it. “Listen, I'm heading out to visit your Pop."

"Don't you dare go out to our diving site, Paris Brown!" Larraine shouted at him.

"Someone has to protect him from the dangers lurking in the water." Paris seemed to think this excuse sufficed, for he exited the store.

"Stay away from our diving site!" Larraine bellowed after him.

Steed realised that if he left now, he could follow Paris to the Crabbes' diving spot. He was very suspicious about Larraine's overprotective manner, and he thought that perhaps she and her father were hiding something down at their spot, something that could cause whirlpools and bright lights.

"Listen, I just realized that I had a manicure appointment down at the hotel, and I'll be terribly late if I don't hurry. How about we get all my equipment tomorrow?" Steed clasped his hands together, a persuasive look set across his rugged countenance.

"That's perfectly fine with me, Mr.— "

"The name is Steed, John Steed."

"Good day to you then, Mr. Steed." Larraine watched him leave and then said to herself, "What kind of a man gets manicures? Have I been out of Great Britain for that long?"

By the time Steed left the shop, Paris was just a speck on the massive beach. However, this was a good development, since now Steed could follow him without being detected. Steed began his pursuit, heading in the opposite direction from the hotel. He hoped Larraine was not spying on him as he marched ever nearer to Paris.

After walking a half-mile, Steed realized that Paris had arrived at his destination. Mr. Brown began yelling  _ hellos _ to an older man who was skimming the surface of the water. From all that he had learned, Steed deduced that the older man was Mr. Crabbe. Stealthily, Steed crept behind a palm tree, straining his ears to hear bits of the conversation.

"I've come to help you look for the treasure, Mr. Crabbe!" Paris told the older man as he hefted the oxygen tank on his back.

"You certainly are eager to find it," Mr. Crabbe remarked.

"Can I help it if all of a sudden everyone is looking for it? We've got to act quickly, or someone will steal it right from under our noses."

"I don't know if we will find it, after all the curse— "

"Curse, smirch; there is no curse, old man."

Steed noticed that several beachgoers were approaching. To avoid being discovered, Steed had to stop his snooping and head back to the hotel. He'd have to return to the spot later.

****

Emma stretched leisurely on her sofa and then rose. She was feeling invigorated, and that was a sure sign that she was able to do her work. Emma thought over all the information she had so far.

Somewhere off the coast of the Caribbean, bright lights and a strong current had killed several divers. She and Steed both didn't know exactly where this had occurred, except that it was about a quarter of a mile down the beach from the hotel. Realising it wasn't much to go on, Emma sighed.

She changed into her green velvety catsuit with the white strings woven through the arms. Properly attired, she found her way to the lobby. She needed to find a person familiar with the island that could tell her the exact location where the accidents had taken place. She looked about herself and noticed that a rather short man was staring at her.

The man approached her and addressed her, "Excuse me, you seem lost. Perhaps I could be of some service?" He had a mellow voice, the kind that could soothe and mesmerise plenty of people.

"Yes, I was looking for a person who knows the island and the Caribbean fairly well."

"Well, I guess you came to the right person, or rather, the right person came to you! My name is Professor Hardy Korall. What do you need to know about Paradisa?"

"I just like to find out where the unfortunate incident with the divers took place. You see, I'm a reporter and am very interested to know if what the rumours say about the flashing lights and the strong currents are true. You could call me a rather curious tourist or a top-notch journalist." Emma played the part of Ms. Reporter flawlessly, and the stranger couldn't tell for an instant that she was really an amateur spy.

Hardy Korall's eyes narrowed into slits as Emma spoke. "Now listen here, we don't need any busybodies sticking their noses in where they don't belong. This island has been living up to its name for the last two hundred years, and it won't be turned into hell by a bunch of tourists coming here to investigate something two people claim to have seen." With this last rude remark, Mr. Korall flounced angrily away from the bewildered Mrs. Peel.

Emma made her way to the front desk and asked the receptionist, "Excuse me, is there someone living nearby who's an expert on this isle?"

"Why, that would be Captain Weed! He lives up in the lighthouse, that's about a quarter of a mile from here, ma'am. Just take a left turn when you reach the beach, and you'll be there in no time." The receptionist smiled amiably as Mrs. Peel thanked him and left.

Emma diligently followed the clerk's instructions, and soon an exquisite little lighthouse came into view. Emma recalled that the strange occurrences had taken place somewhere around this area. She scanned the sea, hoping to spot some sort of clue, be it minute or colossal. She saw nothing of importance.

Mrs. Peel bounded up the several steps that led up to the door of the modest cottage connected to the lighthouse. She noted a rickety, wooden sign with the words, C. Weed carved into them. Knowing for sure that this was the right residence, she smiled slightly and knocked on the door.

The door creaked open a bit, and a bedraggled head protruded from the shadows. "What do ye what, ye scallywag?" If ye is thinkin’ that I'll be givin’ ye more information about the curse, ye is sadly mistaken. I don't like trespassers, especially ye crazy scientists, ye hear?"

He began shutting the door, but Emma held out a strong hand to check him. "I'm not a scientist, Captain Weed."  _ Technically  _ she was a scientist, but it was no use quibbling that point if it meant this strange man wouldn’t speak to her.

Captain Weed surveyed her apparel and remarked, "Aye, ye certainly ain't a scientist, I can see that. "Well, I guess ye can come inside for a short while, providin’ ye behave yerself and don't ask too many impertinent questions."

As she entered, Emma smiled, amused at his mannerisms. "I'm Miss Emma Knight, and I'm sorry to bother you, Captain Weed. But the clerk at the resort told me that you knew the most about the island, and since I needed someone's expert advice on a certain matter that concerned Paradisa Isle, I knew you were the perfect person to come to."

Captain Weed was relatively pleased at this comment and became more at ease. "I'm sorry about my behaviour before, m’dear, but I get tired of these scientists coming around askin’ a lot of ill mannered questions about the curse."

"What curse are you speaking of?"

"Why, the curse of Arme Buccos, of course. Ye don't think that the strange bright lights and strong current are an everyday occurrence? No, it's the curse comin’ true after these many years.

"See, the pirate Arme Buccos was sailin’ along the coast of the Caribbean, tryin’ to find a place to anchor his vessel so he could get on the island and raid the natives. Outta the blue, a storm came up, and his ship sank to the bottom of the sea, his treasures goin’ down with him. It is said the storm was the wrath of God, finally gettin’ revenge on the vicious Buccos.

“For many years, no one dared try to find the treasure, for fear that they too would be caught in a storm and drown. Nobody, until recently, has searched for his treasure. That's what the bright lights and the whirlpools are, the curse comin’ alive."

"It's very interesting, but why on earth do scientists want to know about a curse?" Emma seated herself on a decrepit sofa.

"They're tryin’ to prove that it's not really a curse at all, but just some natural occurrence. But I know better and so do most of the inhabitants of the island. Now if only Hardy Korall and his lot of scientists would leave me and everyone else alone."

Emma sat up straight at the mention of Hardy Korall's name. "Why do they keep bothering you?"

"Well, I know the most about the island's history and geography, so they come to me persistently askin’ these questions. Besides, ye can see the whole phenomenon from me lighthouse. Here, I'll show ye the exact spot, if ye like." Captain Weed gestured for Emma to follow him as he left his home and entered the actual lighthouse.

The two climbed the steep, winding stairs until they reached the top where the beacon was. Captain Weed pointed to a spot in the sea halfway between the lighthouse and the resort.

As Emma examined the area, a strange, incessant whirring noise began, growing louder every moment. Then an eerie green light appeared in the part of the sea that Captain Weed had motioned to. Great waves continuously sloshed up and down, becoming larger as the time passed.

Suddenly a cry for help resounded through the air, and Emma and the captain spotted a lone diver bobbing around in the water. His head went under, and he disappeared from sight. Just as abruptly as it had started, the mystifying phenomenon ended.

"Aye, let that be a lesson to ye: never swim alone." The captain shook his head despondently, and began descending the staircase. "Now do ye believe in the curse?" he yelled to Emma.

Emma didn't respond, for she was too busy staring at the once so violent, but now tranquil, waters. She snapped back to reality and quickly dashed after the sailor. "Do you think the treasure lies near that spot?"

"I certainly do, m'dear, and that young diver we saw, was lookin’ for it, no doubt. Well, now that ye have seen the curse for yerself, what is it I can do for ye?"

"I—I just wanted to know the best spot for sailing. I've got a little Catamaran that I've been wanting to use, and I need to know where the coral beds and the shoals are, so I can avoid them."

"A Catamaran is nothin’ compared to the fifty-footer I sailed in me days, but I guess it’s good enough for beginners." Captain Weed stepped into the adjacent house once more and said, "Come, I'll show ye me maps, providing ye can read them."

"I think I can manage all right."

After Emma listened to Captain Weed's lecture about the best routes for her imaginary sailboat with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, she returned to her hotel room. She called Steed's room number and told him that she was back from her excursion.

Steed promptly replied that he'd be over in less than a minute. He kept his word, which was easy to do, since his room was only across the hall from Emma's. "Well, Mrs. Peel, I hope you had a more successful hunt than I did."

"Yes, I actually witnessed the curse of Arme Buccos."

Steed stared blankly at her and enquired, "Are you sure you weren't dozing on the sofa for the last several hours?"

Emma grinned as she answered, "No, I was talking with Captain Weed, the caretaker of the lighthouse, who claims that the deaths of the several divers were caused by the curse."

"So you actually saw this strange phenomenon?"

"Yes, and unfortunately, a diver happened to be in the water at the time, so—"

"Now the diver is no more," Steed finished for her. "That makes five scuba divers who have been killed by this great force. I hope Larraine and her father are not added to the list."

"Two hours in Paradise, and you've not only met a girl but also her father. I call that working quickly,” Emma teased, not the least bit threatened by this other woman. “Tell me, since you've met the father does this mean you'll be settling down?" Emma grinned coyly at the now chuckling Steed.

"I believe that Ms. Larraine Crabbe thinks nothing of me except as a customer of her and her father's scuba diving shop. Besides, she's related to Arme Buccos, so who knows what terrible traits have been carried on through generations?"

"Well, I know the exact location where the murders took place, so unless the Crabbes are diving near that area, you need not worry for your," Emma paused and batted her eyelashes, "friend." 

Steed ignored the ribbing. "They were searching for the treasure about half a mile away from the shop. I was spying on Mr. Crabbe and this chap named Paris, and so far it seems they haven't found anything."

"Of course they haven't since the treasure is miles away from there. It's located halfway between the lighthouse and the resort."

"You mean I wasted my day, almost getting caught snooping several times for nothing?" Steed demanded.

"I'm afraid so, but don't worry about it." Emma was entirely amused at his sulky mien. When Steed’s embittered mood didn’t improve, she declared, "Someone hasn't had their champagne today." She headed to the built-in bar and began examining its contents. Emma found the champagne and handed the bottle to the annoyed Steed.

He methodically popped the cork and passed the bottle back to his companion. After he had sipped his champagne, though, his mood lightened considerably. "Oh well, tomorrow we'll go scuba diving together, if you're feeling up to it. I think halfway between the lighthouse and resort is a superb spot."

Emma was about to sip her champagne, but she stopped when she heard him. "You can't be serious, Steed! Nobody's been able to safely look for the treasure there. It's not as if we know who's doing these dastardly deeds and can stop them from doing it again. We know nothing except the location of the place."

"No, we have several suspects, including, I'll admit, Miss Crabbe and her crew."

"And Captain Weed is very suspicious, the way he carries on about the curse, trying desperately to convince everybody of it. He could be the one behind it, just using the curse as an excuse. And then there's Hardy Korall, a scientist, trying to find the reasonable explanation for the strange deaths."

"What's so suspicious about that, may I ask?"

"Well, he nearly chewed my head off earlier when I asked him about the bizarre incidents. He told me to mind my own business." Speaking of heads, she had a pounding headache, and her stomach hurt. Strange. She wasn’t prone to malaise. Maybe she was hungry? The last time she ate was sometime over the Atlantic Ocean. She glanced at her watch and exclaimed, "It's nearly time for tea!" She set her champagne glass down before she could even have a drink.

Steed noted how quickly she had discarded her champagne and immediately became alarmed. "You must still be sick if you can forget about champagne that easily!"

Emma tried to smile, but found it difficult. "I guess I am a little under the weather, but I'll be fine."

"The resort has its own doctor; maybe you should pay him a visit."

"If you insist, I'll go right after tea." Even as she spoke, Emma wondered if she could last that long.


	3. Second Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma consults a doctor.  
> Steed brings along some friends.

**Second Afternoon**

Emma grimly marched into one of the hotel's lifts, counting the seconds it took to get to the front lobby. She was certain that she was heading to her impending doom. Even the tranquil fountain that stood tall and ornate in the middle of the lobby couldn't lift her spirits.

Like most English people, she hated the dentist and dreaded the doctor. She knew they were there for her benefit and health, but she couldn't get over the fear that they were dishonest and greedy blackguards. With much trepidation she took a right turn down the marble hallway that Steed had indicated and began her search for the surgery. She soon spotted the small, but clean office and entered.

The waiting room was not much bigger than Emma's bedroom back in her suite. Several orange vinyl chairs were placed against the three free walls, and various patients were squirming uncomfortably in the seats. One man was clutching his figure in pain, while a woman was rubbing her stomach and muttering, "I knew that food was poisonous."

That's when it occurred to Emma that perhaps she had been poisoned! Since she worked with Steed all of the time she was liable to get many suspicious characters trying to dispose of her. Emma frowned at this disturbing notion, but her thoughts were interrupted by a soft, crystalline voice.

"May I help you?" a nurse, complete with uniform, politely asked Mrs. Peel. She sat behind a desk that aligned the fourth wall. A door stood to the left of her, the door that led to the examining room.

Emma approached the desk, unperturbed, as she replied, "Yes, I would like to see the doctor if it isn't inconvenient." Emma was back to her composed self once more.

The nurse smiled affably and assured Emma that it wasn't. "What seems to be bothering you, Miss—"

"Miss Emma Knight," Emma answered, "and I've been having terrible nausea, acute dizziness, and headaches." She looked about herself to make sure no person was eavesdropping and added, "I've come to the conclusion that I've been poisoned."

The nurse tried to hide her amusement at this plebeian's self-diagnosis and told Emma that the doctor would see her shortly.

Emma eased herself into a chair and began perusing a fashion magazine with great interest. It seemed to her that every single model in the magazine was sporting a fashion she had worn several years earlier. "Hmm, that means I'm ahead of my time," Emma mused with some delight.

After thirty minutes of waiting, Emma's name was finally called. She bravely passed through the door and entered the appointed room. Sighing, she seated herself on the examining table. She was about to begin swinging her dangling legs like a child when a tall man of about thirty-five years entered.

He had almost black hair and dark brown eyes to match. His dark eyebrows were scrunched together in thought, and he didn't even notice Emma until she cleared her throat. He glanced at the chart the nurse had filled out and given to him through a pair of reading spectacles. "It says your name is Miss Emma Knight; is that correct?" He had a rather high, gravelly voice that belied his masculine physique.

"Yes, that's right." Emma surveyed him once more and remarked, "You're from England like me, doctor!"

He whipped off his glasses to gaze at her directly. "Lots of Englishmen and women emigrate to Paradisa Island from their native home. I've been here for several years, and I enjoy every minute of it. It gives me a thrill to know I'm helping people feel healthy."

Emma smiled at the enthusiastic doctor but made no comment. The physician turned a wary eye on her and asked, "You on holiday, Miss Knight?"

"Actually, I'm here on business with a colleague."

"Well, I'm sorry for both of you. It's terrible to spend your days in this Paradise, cooped up in some meeting or other. I live here so I can enjoy the weather and the beaches whenever I want." The doctor gazed forlornly into space before adding, "Anyway, I couldn't go back to England even if I wanted to." He snapped out of his reverie, cleared his throat, and said, "I'm Dr. Martin King. What seems to be troubling you?"

After his confiding remark about not being able to return to Great Britain, Emma's uneasiness had returned. She had known too many villainous doctors to not be suspicious of this one. "I think that I've been poisoned."

"Food poisoned?" the doctor asked as he made notes on Emma's chart.

"I'm not positive."

Dr. King looked up from his papers and stared in alarm. "You mean it may have been a deliberate poisoning? Well, it couldn't have been something too lethal, or you'd be dead."

"I'm quite aware of that, Dr. King, but nevertheless, I believe I have been unjustly harmed by some maniac."

"Do you have any enemies who would do this to you?"

"In my line of business, far too many."

"What do you do for a living?"

"My partner and I—we work for the government, and you know there are so many people opposed to the government right now."

"Hmm, yes, so many assassinations and assassination attempts, and young people protesting in the streets. You can't turn anywhere without some violent uprising being started or ended. So you and your partner are here on some business for the government? Funny, I didn't think there could be partners in politics."

Emma pretended not to hear his last comment and merely smiled politely. 

"I would like to do a preliminary examination on you, like checking your blood pressure, etcetera. Then we'll check your blood for poisoning."

Emma nodded, wincing at the thought of pain. "I wish we could avoid such tests. I have an acute aversion to needles."

"Most people do, you know. There is only one man I can think of that managed never to be frightened in the presence of danger and pain. I wonder what happened to him, after these eight years? He's probably dead, the old fool.” 

His comment was a little odd. She would have suspected he was referring to an old war buddy, but he was a mite too young to have served in the War. She watched Dr. King as he scribbled on her chart and couldn't resist asking, "You're not related to Miss Tara King are you, by any chance?"

King looked at her in surprise as he replied, "No, I've never heard of the lady before."

Emma almost grinned as she declared, "That is such a relief to know.”

“I take it she’s not one of your favourite people?”

“Tara, though extremely lovely and beautiful, is very much in love with my partner, which is very bad for business."

Dr. King was sharp and caught on to the insinuation. “Bad for you or bad for your partner?”

"If Steed knows what’s best for him, bad for both of us.”

Martin King seemed to be in a shocked stupor, for he merely gawked at his patient, his mouth agape. Finally, he managed to clamp it shut to ask, "You’re not speaking about John Steed, are you? He’s the man I was referring to just a minute ago!”

Emma gaped at him in a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. "What your connection was to Steed I have no idea, but he is and never was an 'old fool.' I suppose he was a bit crass for a while, but he was never foolish in any regard."

“But, then you must be aware that he's a—a spy?

"Dr. King, I'm his amateur partner at present. Of course I know what he does for a living!"

"This has been a very surprising day for me! I know you're hardly in the mood to be physically examined, but I'm afraid if I'm to figure out your problem, we'll have to get off the subject of Steed."

Emma conceded, and a half hour later, she was on her way back to her hotel room. After the examination, Dr. King had informed her of his former partnership with Steed many years ago. From the tone in his voice, Mrs. Peel had inferred that he was not too fond of Steed or his methods in spying. Emma smiled mischievously at the prospect of telling Steed of her encounter with the severe Martin King.

Emma entered her room only to discover that Steed had retired to his own. Unconcerned about her little blunder, Emma advanced to Steed's suite. She smiled nonchalantly as she entered the living area of Steed's hotel room and seated herself on a plush sofa.

Steed was staring intently at a map of the Caribbean Sea, scribbling graphs whenever he deemed it necessary. He finally glanced up from his work and smiled appreciatively at the presence of his partner in crime. "Did the doctor discover what was ailing you?"

"Yes, he told me I was suffering from a severe case of John-Steed-itis. He said to avoid you like the plague, and my symptoms will gradually subside." She laughed when she noted the bewildered look on Steed's face. "For some reason or other Dr. Martin King doesn't like you much. Perhaps you could clarify that little problem for me?"

Steed nodded in recognition of the name and began to chuckle in a sort of rueful manner. "I knew that Martin King was under witness protection somewhere in the Caribbean, but I never dreamed it would be on this tiny speck of an island! I suppose I ought to tell you why King begrudges me so, though I'm a little afraid to."

"That's not like you, Steed. Are you sure  _ you _ don't need to see a doctor?"

"I'm certain you're going to feel sorry for King and cast me as an evil villain of some sorts, that's all," Steed protested defensively. "Anyway, this all occurred a while back, before Mrs. Gale, Venus Smith, or you." He smiled here before continuing, "I was ruthless back then, much more so than King; he was merely a practitioner of medicine, trying to help those many unhealthy citizens of our Mother Country. I would often call on him to help me with my cases, just like I ask you to assist me now.

"On this particular mission, an important diplomat’s life was in danger. One of the ministry's own men was guilty of selling secrets to the enemy, who were determined to assassinate this man. My work colleague was soon found to be the traitor, and he unfortunately kidnapped King. However, this man had the tactlessness to kidnap King at gunpoint in front of his ignorant wife. Persuading his wife that King was the evil one and he was merely protecting her from certain perils, our nemesis proceeded to leave his house, still pointing a gun at King's back.

"I had suspected trouble, so I was waiting in the shadows for King and our enemy to appear. When they did, I only had one choice: I had to shoot this man. I often handled guns in those days, so I was quite prepared to use the weapon. Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger and watched our fellow agent die.

"King and I quickly dashed off to save the foreign diplomat from his death, leaving the body outside on the front lawn.** The wife soon grew uneasy when her husband didn't return, so she finally went out in search of him. She saw the body and—"

"She naturally concluded that King was the murderer," Emma interrupted, catching on.

"King's face was soon in all the papers, so the ministry had to hide him. Finally it became too risky for everyone, and the ministry decided to ship him to America or somewhere far away where they wouldn't have heard about a small murder. King was reluctant to leave his home country, but he soon realised the necessity of it and agreed. Because of the nature of the witness protection programme, I never found out exactly where he moved—until now."

As soon as the last words left John's Steed's lips, Mrs. Peel commented, "Well, I can certainly see why he dislikes you so much."

"This is capital, Mrs. Peel," Steed began, ignoring her last biting remark. "I can ask King to help us on our little mission."

"You think he will after all that you've done to him?"

"After I say that it's his duty to better mankind he'll be most eager to help." Steed seemed overconfident, but Emma wasn't one to say anything about it. "Now how would you like to attend a party tonight?"

"I'd like nothing better, but I haven't been invited to one." Emma waited for Steed to explain himself, which he did without any prodding.

"'Dear Mr. Steed, you are cordially invited to join us eight o'clock tonight at a grand gala, taking place in the East Wing downstairs.'" Steed read from an embossed letter. "'Formal attire is essential; dress accordingly.' What do you say to that, Mrs. Peel?"

"How on earth did you get invited to a party so soon after arriving? Has Miss Crabbe been working her charm?"

"Actually the resort hosts a little get together every Tuesday for its newcomers. Everyone gets an invitation; why, here's yours." Steed handed his companion an identical card and allowed her to curiously scan it. "I'll pick you up at seven, all right?"

"I'll be ready and waiting." Smiling beguilingly, Emma Peel quit the suite.

Steed worked on the maps for a quarter of an hour and then realised that it was time to prepare for the party. He arose from his position on a reclining chair, pondering over what to wear for dinner. He quickly decided on a navy blue suit, complete with a dark blue necktie. Now he moved on to the more difficult task of choosing the right bowler.

Glancing suspiciously around, in case Mrs. Peel might be spying, Steed sneaked into his bedroom. He hefted a medium-size suitcase onto his bed and removed its contents: three hatboxes. He opened the lids of the hatboxes, revealing two bowlers neatly and carefully stacked on top of one another in each box. In horror, Steed realised that the dim light was not sufficient enough to enable him to see the colours of the bowlers properly. At the moment he couldn't differentiate the black from the navy blue or the light gray from the dark gray! With an affected sigh, he moved all his bowlers to the living area where he lined them up in a row on the coffee table.

After a short debate over whether he should wear the black or the blue bowler, he finally chose the navy blue one. This little task finished, he gathered his belongings and rose.

The sun was setting at that time, and Steed couldn't help but remember Mrs. Peel's comment about watching the sun set against the striking scenario of the car park. He gazed out the window at the many automobiles, and was about to retreat to his bedroom, when a certain person caught his eye.

Right underneath Steed's window, a man was impatiently waiting for someone or something. He occasionally glanced about himself, hoping no one noticed him or his suspicious behavior. Finally another man wandered casually over to him. As soon as they both discovered that no one was around, they began talking.

Steed nearly rolled his eyes as he realised that his window was closed, so that it was impossible to hear anything. He gingerly set his bowlers down on the coffee table again, crept up to the window, and deftly opened it a crack. When no sounds emerged from his prying the window, he opened the glass even wider. Steed peeked down at the pair, sighing with relief at not being discovered. Then he ducked low to avoid detection and listened intently.

"I know the importance of our secrecy, and I can assure you that no one saw me come out here," the second man was telling his companion.

"If anyone finds our meeting place, you are dead, you understand?" the first man replied. When there was no response, he continued, "Listen, we've got to start diving tomorrow night."

"It's too dangerous at night; all those alligators and sharks."

"It's too dangerous in the daytime, you idiot. The Crabbes are searching in the day, along with all those other unfortunate divers that have been killed. You want anyone to catch on that we're looking for the treasure?"

"No, but I'm afraid of the dark. I get confused and discombobulated, and before you know it, I'm tripping over something or using the wrong tools, or—"

"Stop making up excuses! Will you spread the word that we're starting tomorrow at midnight?"

Steed had heard enough of the conversation. He started to rise from his squatted position, when suddenly the second gentleman looked his way. In a flash Steed was down on the floor, hoping they hadn't seen him. It appeared they hadn't, for the two fellows began to bid goodbye to each other. Just in case they happened to look up at the window again, Steed crawled away on the floor right into Emma's dress shoes!

"Is that the new way for operatives to get around?" she asked, utterly amused.

Steed motioned for her to be quiet and then gestured to the window. Emma silently stole up to the window and peered out. She was just in time to see the first man walk away. The first man was Hardy Korall!

Emma firmly shut the window and turned around to face her partner. She was relieved to note that Steed was no longer on the floor. "That man was Hardy Korall."

"He was?" Steed asked incredulously as he brushed himself off. He smiled as Emma came over to help him. "He was talking about finding the treasure."

Emma stopped her brushing to stare in confusion. "But he's a scientist trying to find what the cause of the whirlpools is, so what does he care about the treasure?"

"Perhaps he's turned greedy and only cares about getting a hold of the treasure, or perhaps he never was a scientist and was just using that title as a cover up." As he spoke, Steed fetched the proper bowler from the pile on the coffee table and headed for his room. "Well, I must get ready for the dinner."

"Really, Steed, bringing that many bowlers with you on holiday," Emma reprimanded her companion's strange idiosyncrasy.

Steed tried to not flush as he placed the hat on top of his wavy dark brown hair. He opened the door for Mrs. Peel and ushered her out.

He was about to leave himself when Emma reminded him, "You're not dressed yet!" She nodded at his casual wear. 

With a grimace, Steed shut the door on Emma and hurried to get into his blue suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Martin King was in three leftover Dr. Keel scripts. The last one which aired was "The Sell-Out." In the episode, Steed does in fact shoot a man that's holding King at gunpoint, and then they run off together to stop an assassination attempt. Nothing is further said about the traitor or his hapless wife, which I always found sloppy. Surely she was alerted to the gunfire and would have gone out to find her husband's body? So I invented this story line for King.


	4. Second Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma has a date.  
> Steed goes to a party.

In twenty minutes, Steed and Mrs. Peel were on their way to the fete. "How do I look?" Emma asked self-consciously, even though she knew what would be the answer.

Steed thought she had never looked so exquisite in her white, silk, embroidered dress with the circular patterns. The miniskirt added to the appeal, and Steed had to fasten his eyes on the ceiling to keep from ogling. "You look lovely my dear, as usual, but what about myself?"

"You look ravishing," Emma replied teasingly. The two exchanged a knowing glance before Emma entered the large ballroom that was known as the East Wing. Steed was to follow in several minutes, pretending that he didn't know her. It was an old ploy of theirs, and they often used it, even though it hardly ever worked.

Emma surveyed the cheerful mass of people that crowded the room. Heading over to the bar, she wondered who should be the first person she talked to about the treasure. Suddenly, she felt a strong yet polite tap on her shoulder. She curiously whirled around to discover none other than Dr. Martin King smiling tentatively at her. "Good evening, Doctor, and what brings you to this little party for the new arrivals?"

"Many of the workers of the hotel come to these galas in order to properly welcome guests like you and Steed," was the prompt reply. 

Emma addressed the bartender, and was about to ask for a glass of champagne, when the doctor checked her. "Miss Knight, if you have been poisoned," he began quietly, "do you think it would be wise to fill your body with even more toxins?"

Though deeply disappointed that she would have to give up her favourite beverage, Emma diligently canceled the order. She smiled provocatively as she remarked, "I'm flattered that you care so much, Dr. King."

"I'm just trying to perform my duty as a physician to its fullest extent."

"Don't you ever find it tedious to be so stuffy and professional all the time?"

"I've seen what happens too often when you mix business with pleasure."

"Why not try mixing pleasure with business?" Emma suggested half seriously, half in jest.

"All right, how about joining me for a casual breakfast tomorrow morning at seven?" King asked, hoping she would say yes. "I don't start my practice until nine."

"That must be nice."

"So, do you accept my offer?" Martin King began to look desperate at Mrs. Peel's apparent coolness.

"I would love to join you for breakfast, Dr. King. Steed gave up eating his breakfast a while ago. He just fills up on champagne in the wee early hours of the morning, and he's set for the remainder of the day," she added as a joke.

"I hope you are not being serious."

"But I am as serious as can be," Emma replied, feigning a look of innocence.

As they were conversing, Steed entered the room. He likewise examined the cluster of people before heading for the bar to claim the luscious Emma Knight. Before he could reach his destination, a certain person caught his eye. The person was Hardy Korall, but what he was doing at the fete was an enigma to Steed. He decided that Emma should investigate the matter immediately. After all, she was acquainted with the man, so it wouldn't look conspicuous to have a leisurely chat with him.

"Hello, my dear, how are you fairing?" John Steed enquired of Emma. He noticed whose company she was in and added, "You must not be fairing well after hanging about with this dreary fellow."

"It's nice to see you, too, Steed," Martin replied icily.

Emma found that the atmosphere between the two was one of pride and disdain. With a small gesture, she said, "I think I'll just be running along and—"

"Have a small discussion of Arme Buccos' treasure with Professor Korall," Steed finished for her.

"Where is he?" she asked in an inaudible voice.

"Right over there with the man I saw earlier from the car park," Steed whispered in response.

Emma rushed over to Korall and pretended to bump into him. "Oh, I do beg your pardon, Sir."

Professor Korall briefly scrutinised her, remembered her from earlier that afternoon, and frowned. "Did you find what you were looking for this afternoon Miss White?"

"The name is Knight, Emma Knight, and I found all the information I needed, thank you!"

"Oh, so you found out what we scientists have: that it's simply a natural occurrence."

"Nothing has been proven yet. Besides, Captain Weed is quite certain that the curse of Arme Buccos is the cause of all this trouble."

The man from the car park and Hardy Korall's heads snapped to attention at the mention of Captain Weed's name. "Captain Weed—um, he's an old kook. He doesn't know what is fact and what is a fairy tale anymore!" Korall declared nervously.

Emma wondered why he stuttered so much. She remained silent, though, lest she upset him even more than she already had. She smoothly changed the subject as she asked, "And who is your companion, Professor Korall?"

"My name is Waverly, ma'am," the professor's friend told her.

"Mr. Waverly, Professor Korall, may I ask what you are doing at this little party? From the way you describe your work, I thought you had been on Paradisa Island for several weeks. Is this not a party for new arrivals?" Mrs. Peel waited for a suitable response.

"We only arrived last Wednesday, and since these gatherings are always on Tuesday, we were unable to attend last week," Korall explained as Waverly nodded in agreement. "So here we are, trying to enjoy the festivities as much as possible." As Hardy Korall finished the last remark, he glared emphatically at her.

Mrs. Peel took the hint and meandered over to a raucous jazz band. The music wasn't her favourite, but since Steed was still engaged in a serious discussion with King, she remained where she was.

Meanwhile Steed and King were quibbling over who was to blame for King's exodus from the United Kingdom those many years ago. "If you hadn't shot that man, I would have been free to live wherever I choose, instead of being a fugitive for a crime I didn't commit!" King interjected.

"If you hadn't been so stupid and gotten caught doing a simple job of spying, you wouldn't have been kidnapped, and I consequently wouldn't have had to shoot Mark Harvey!" Steed protested angrily.

"You ruined my life, Steed," King proclaimed, anguish notable in his voice. "You may think it's wonderful to live in this tropical Paradise, but all I see is endless days of being away from the people I love most."

"You had someone special back home?" Steed asked curiously.

King's despondent countenance turned to one of annoyance as he snapped, "Yes, my mother." 

Steed was about to laugh, but stopped himself in time. "Well, my mother happens to be deceased, so I can't relate."

"Yes, but you can still visit your brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces." King paused briefly and added, "You even have a wife to look after you! I don't have a wife and probably never will. Nobody here stays long enough for me to form a relationship with." He noticed that Steed was eyeing him suspiciously.

"The strain of your job is showing through, King. I never had a wife."

"Don't play more games with me, Steed. Shortly before being placed in witness protection I was informed that you and a certain lady of reputable birth were going to be married. At the time I was so embittered I hoped that she would give you nothing but ceaseless turmoil, but now I'm just incredibly jealous of you."

Steed laughed nervously as he answered, "I DO NOT have a wife! We never married. You must have been misinformed—Mrs. Peel will vouch for me!" Steed searched the somewhat dissipated crowds for the previously mentioned lady. When he couldn't find her, he merely said, "Well, at any rate, there is no Mrs. John Steed at present. Just a fiancee, who is apparently MIA at the moment."

It was King's turn to eye his companion warily. "Who’s Mrs. Peel?"

“I call Emma ‘Mrs. Peel.’ Long story.”

“So you and Miss Knight have been engaged for 7 years? What are you waiting for? The Queen’s blessing?”

Steed ignored King. "Look, I'm sorry you had to leave England. I had no intention of that happening at the time I rashly shot Harvey."

"So you admit that you were being rash!" King almost smiled before he continued, "I suppose that's enough for me to forgive you."

"You know, since it's been so many years since the crime was committed, you may be able to return to England without being noticed. I'll see what I can do for you, if you like." Steed glanced over his shoulder and perceived Mrs. Peel advancing toward them.

"Has everything been resolved?" she asked as soon as she was in earshot.

"Oh, I think so," Steed replied quite seriously. He lightened the mood by suggesting they each get something to drink.

"The doctor has told me that I shouldn't drink champagne in case I've been poisoned," Emma told him.

"Do you think you'll survive?" Steed asked, concern in his voice.

“The poisoning or the lack of champagne?”

“Both.”

"I'll manage," Emma sighed.

Taking her aside, Steed enquired, "So what did Professor Korall have to say?"

"He and his companion Waverly have only been here a little less than week. Hence why they were invited to the party."

"That means unless Korall and Waverly are lying, they have not been responsible for the murders."

"How can you say that?"

"Because the first murder took place three weeks ago."

"He appeared to be in earnest when I spoke to him, a little unpleasant, but earnest." Emma Peel reflected on the meeting and recalled an important clue. "Hardy Korall was very nervous when I mentioned Captain Weed. What do you suppose it means?"

"Perhaps he is just remembering the uncivil manners Captain Weed displayed when they were prodding information out of him about the strange phenomenon. Or perhaps it's something more. We'll just have to continue our investigations, eh Mrs. Peel?" Steed smiled affably at her and the two marched proudly onto the dance floor.

The party continued long into the night, but Steed and Mrs. Peel, finally exhausted, had to leave. Dr. King gave Mrs. Peel a slip of paper with information on how to get to a little café in the resort where he hoped they would have their breakfast the next day. Steed witnessed the whole procedure, but he didn't ask what was on the paper. He assumed it was a prescription for some medicine.

He escorted her back to her suite, making plans for tomorrow morning. "We'll have breakfast at eight, and then we'll head to the diving shop, where we will rent some gear. Then we will go diving for some treasure." He rubbed his hands together in sheer delight at the prospect.

Emma grinned as she eyed the leaf of paper in her hand. With her free hand, she inserted her key into the lock and turned to face Steed. "What if I don't want to have breakfast with you?" she asked saucily. The suggestion was too inconceivable for Steed, but he managed to keep silent. "I may have other plans," Emma continued as she entered the room.

"What did King write on that paper?" Steed demanded, jealousy evident in his voice.

Mrs. Peel placed the piece of paper face down on a table where the room's phone was perched. The words were now concealed from Steed's prying eyes. "Don't you dare flip that paper over!" she warned Steed.

"You have my word as a gentleman. Could you please get me some brandy, dear, before I leave?" Steed asked innocently.

Emma gazed at him sceptically but finally wandered over to the bar. While she was busy pouring some of the appointed liquor for him, Steed picked up a pencil that was next to the phone and began scribbling on the back of the paper. Soon the indentation of the words came through on the back. Of course, they were backwards, but Steed was able to sufficiently read it. 

"So King is taking you to a breakfast at a restaurant located between the tennis courts and the sauna?" he asked.

"I told you not to turn that paper over and read it." Emma flounced over to the table and crumpled the piece of paper into a tiny ball.

"I didn't flip it over. I scribbled on the back until the letters showed through."

Over Steed's amused chuckles, she remarked peevishly, "You're incorrigible."

"You wouldn't have it any other way," Steed declared wryly. With a tip of his bowler, he exited the room. He knew that Mrs. Peel would not stay angry with him for long.

He entered his room, flipped on the lights, and was bombarded by two very familiar people.

"Steed, you're in grave danger!" Mrs. Catherine Gale announced as she shoved Steed into a chair.

"When am I not in danger?" Steed grinned flippantly, but when he saw Cathy's glare, he frowned.

"What's the matter?"

"Mother is trying to harm you and Miss Knight," another voice spoke up. Smyth stepped into view before continuing, "He's sending Mitchell to take Emma back with him, by force if necessary."

"This is all poppycock, Mrs. Gale and Smyth. Are you sure you weren't drinking something you oughtn't on the plane trip over here?"

"You have a lot of nerve to tell me that, John Steed!" Smyth bellowed angrily.

Steed was surprised to see the usual levelheaded Richard Smyth barking at him. Cathy calmly patted her love on the arm and remarked, "I think you need to get some rest, Richard darling." She turned to address Steed, and with utter annoyance noticeable in her voice, said, "We are leaving now, but I warn you, if any harm comes to Emma, it will be your fault."

Steed checked them with the words, "Don't forget to come around tomorrow morning at eight." Noticing their penetrating glares, he explained, "I'll need your assistance with this whole case I'm working on. If what you're saying is true, you can protect Emma and help me at the same time."

Smyth and Cathy exchanged glances with each other before agreeing to Steed's plans. The two then left as silently as they had entered.

Steed smiled satisfactorily and hurried to get ready for bed. Thanks to the time difference crossing the Atlantic, he had now been awake for over 24 hours, and sleep deprivation was taking its toll on him. He needed a nice night of sleep.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the ocean, a young woman was hastily packing. Tara King was busy cramming every article of clothing that could possibly fit into her suitcase. She sighed in discontentment at the three outfits she had not managed to fit into her too small of a suitcase. She lugged the stuffed piece of luggage into her living room and then plopped into a chair.

She was going to Paradisa Island that very morning. In fact, in two hours she would be leaving her flat and heading to the airport to catch the flight. She had to help Steed, even if it meant going against her boss.

With another sigh, she hefted her weary body out of its chair and into her kitchen. She was not accustomed to getting up at dawn, especially not to pack! Packing was an art, she had discovered, and she was not gifted at it. She rummaged through her pots and pans, looking for the right one to make fried eggs with. She was too intent on thinking about John Steed's handsome face.

"Hold on, Steed," she murmured tiredly as she lifted an omelette pan over her head like a banner, "help is on the way!"


	5. Third Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steed gets caught in the current.  
> Emma is all washed up.  
> Cathy rocks the boat.

Emma Peel giggled goodheartedly at Dr. Martin King's comical story, fully enjoying her breakfast with him. Not many people could make her laugh, so she was impressed with the doctor. "You're very kind in inviting one of your patients to breakfast."

"I don't consider people I visit before business hours my patients." Martin wiped his mouth with his linen napkin.

"That's not very considerate of you." Emma pretended to be insulted by his comment, but really she was bubbling with delight. This morning, nothing could dampen her high spirits—except one little matter. "When do you expect my test results?"

"I make it a habit not to speak business with my patients before—"

"Before work hours? I'm beginning to notice a pattern." She heaped another forkful of eggs into her luscious shaped mouth.

Sighing with contentment, King leaned back in his chair. "I'm enjoying your company immensely. I don't think anything could ruin this delightful meal except for pompous partner, John Steed."

"Did you call for me, Sir?" John Steed stood before the couple's table, an impish grin playing on his lips.

Emma stifled another laugh at Steed's quirky behaviour and King's peeved reaction. "Steed, I'll have you for the remainder of the day; right now this is Dr. King's time with me."

"I wish you had kept our breakfast engagement a secret." Martin raised his bushy eyebrows crossly as he glared at Steed.

"Mrs. Peel's secrets are my secrets," Steed countered.

"I don't know if I like that idea," Emma smiled.

Steed returned the smile before he said, "I just wanted to tell you that Smyth and Mrs. Gale arrived last night, warning me of impending danger or something of the like."

"If it's coming from Mrs. Gale, I'd believe it. Remember the time she helped us get to Scotland..." Emma's voice trailed off as she noticed Steed glancing furtively at King. “Never mind, it’s not important.”

King didn’t notice Emma’s curious manner. "Who's Mrs. Gale?"

Steed sat down in an empty chair and leaned on his elbow. "Mrs. Catherine Gale is an anthropologist who married a farmer, moved to Africa, and learned how to hunt and fend for herself. Her husband died, and she came back to England, where she met up with me. I asked for her assistance on numerous cases before she grew tired of me and returned to her old job. Now does that clarify everything?"

"I suppose Smyth is in the same line of work as you, am I correct?" King eyed Steed warily until he nodded his head in response.

"Anyway," Steed continued, "I've asked for their help in this case, so don't be surprised when you see them. I'll be running along then, if you don't mind."

"No, not at all," King snapped in annoyance.

"You and Mrs. Gale are birds of a feather." Steed casually trotted off, leaving a very amused Emma and frustrated Martin behind him.

Several minutes later, Steed was patiently waiting for Ms. Larraine Crabbe to finish his measurements for his diving gear. "I'll have the perfect suit for you in several minutes," she assured him as she disappeared into the storage room.

At that moment, Cathy and Smyth entered the shop. Cathy was attired in one of her gray business dresses, and Smyth was dressed in a dark suit. Steed surveyed their apparel and groaned. "No, no, no, you can't possibly expect to go boating in those clothes!"

"Look, Steed, how was I supposed to know that you wanted me to go boating today?" Cathy tried to remain calm, but it was difficult.

"We'll just have to go change before we join Steed on the boat." Smyth seemed to find nothing wrong with Steed's roundabout way of doing things.

"You see, I'm going to be diving for the treasure while also looking for the cause of some terrible deaths. You are aware of the case I'm working on, aren't you?" Before either of them could answer, Steed replied, "Oh, I'm glad to hear that.

"You'll be piloting the motor boats while Mrs. Peel and I are swimming in the deep blue sea."

"You're taking it for granted that I know how to pilot a boat," Cathy reminded him.

"Well, you do, so what's the trouble?" Smyth asked.

"You go hire two motorboats, and I'll see you in a quarter of an hour." Steed waited expectantly for an answer. Cathy and Smyth nodded and quickly exited the shop. Steed smiled gregariously as Miss Crabbe reentered the storefront.

"Well, when can I get started on my diving expedition?" he asked eagerly.

Larraine smiled amicably at his boyish impatience. "Everything is at your disposal, the equipment, the flippers, etcetera. We'll provide everything, except your diving partner. You must never swim alone!"

"Perhaps I could offer myself as a diving partner?" Emma entered the store, dressed for the sea in a bright blue sundress with skinny straps. A white belt was fastened around her slender waist, and a floppy straw hat sat upon her auburn tresses, a gauzy strap tied securely around her chin. " I'm Miss Emma Knight. I’m here on holiday and hoping to do some diving."

Larraine gazed enviously at Emma's lithe figure, trying to find the right words. "If Mr. Steed is all right with the arrangement?"

“I'd be more than delighted, my dear! What did you say your name was again?" Steed enquired, carrying out the ruse.

Larraine automatically pulled out the measuring tape, and was about to begin the procedure once more when she noticed Mr. Steed's eyes resting on the sexy Emma. "Do you mind turning around?" Larraine demanded.

Steed flushed crimson as he reeled around to gaze at a scuba mask.

Thirty minutes later, Emma and Steed were dressed in their diving gear. They proceeded to head out to the pier where Cathy and Smyth would be waiting for them with the boats.

Larraine jealously watched them walk down the beach, her eyes never leaving Emma. She sniffed disdainfully as she added to herself, "There's one consolation: at least I'm fully round on top."

****

Cathy smiled briefly when she spotted Steed and Peel approaching the dock. "They're here, Richard; let's get ready to go." She and Smyth each boarded one of the boats, food and medical provisions in hand. Cathy self-consciously smoothed her black and white bathing suit and then leaned back in the boat.

"Hello, my dear, how are you?" Steed hopped into her vessel.

"Oh no, you are not riding with me!" Cathy gazed desperately at Smyth and Emma, but they were busily preparing to sail. "All right, but you had better not distract me, or I won't be responsible if we crash."

"Aye, aye, captain." Steed saluted her before reclining in the bench that aligned the exterior wall of the boat.

The two boats started off for their destination. As they cruised along, Cathy asked Steed, "Where did you learn to dive?"

"I took a course in school."

"When did they start giving lessons to scuba dive in school? Cathy asked disbelievingly.

"I'm surprised at your obtuse thinking! I'm talking about my operative training!"

Cathy bit her tongue, keeping back the rude remarks which had popped into her head, and was silent the remainder of the trip.

In the other boat Smyth was asking Mrs. Peel the exact same question as Cathy had.

Emma's answer, however, was entirely different from Steed's. "The Knights always try everything at least once. Then whichever hobby we liked, we would continue doing it."

"You're an amazing woman Mrs. Steed," Smyth remarked admiringly, not realizing his blunder.

"Thank you for the compliment, but my name is Miss Knight, not Mrs. Steed." Emma gave him a pointed look.

Smyth uncharacteristically blushed red. "Of course. You and Steed aren’t married yet.” He cleared his throat and continued steering the boat in complete silence.

Emma liked the quiet that had settled over the vessel. All she heard was the insistent puttering of the motor and the lapping of the waves against the side of the boat. She leaned back in her seat, ready to enjoy herself.

Soon the two boats reached the approximate location of where the deaths had occurred. Pulling on his flippers, Steed said, "There's a rope ladder over on the starboard side of this vessel. Be a dear, Mrs. Gale, and toss it down over the side so I can get into the water?"

Exasperated, Cathy Gale retrieved the heavy ladder from the corner.

"Now toss it over the side of the boat," Steed commanded in a tone that made Cathy feel like a little child.

"Why don't I just toss YOU over the side of the boat?" she snapped in reply.

Steed laughed nervously, a sign that he was embarrassed by her remark. He took the ladder from her outstretched arms and hung it on the outside of the boat himself. As he climbed down the ladder, Cathy came over to the railing to peer down at him. Steed smiled as he declared, "You know, you look lovely in that bathing suit, just stunning!"

Mrs. Gale scowled at Steed's feeble attempt to get out of trouble and was about to push him off the ladder, when he checked her.

"I haven't got my mask on yet." Steed pulled on the scuba mask, turned on the oxygen tank, and plopped into the water. He swam over to the other boat, where Mrs. Peel and Mr. Smyth were patiently waiting for him on deck.

"Where do you want to search for treasure first?" Emma enquired as she placed her mask carefully over her lovely face.

Since he already had his mask on, Steed merely pointed in a general direction. He watched as Emma climbed down her own ladder and settled into the water.

The two swam below the surface, examining their surroundings with the greatest interest. They saw the huge bow of a wooden ship ahead of them, and without further investigation they knew whose ship it was: Captain Arme Buccos. The same thought crept into each of their minds, "Supposing the treasure was on the ship?" It was the only logical place for it to be! The two spies approached the vessel, their excitement accelerating with each stroke of the water. Steed and Peel didn't see the cave off to the side, nor did they see the light that was growing brighter every second.

"I wonder what this whole case is about?" Cathy called to Smyth from her boat.

"We'll know when they return," Smyth yelled back.

Meanwhile, Emma had reached the sunken ship when she finally saw the light behind them. Her brown eyes must have grown wide with horror, for Steed whirled around in a panic. He likewise spotted the intense light, and in a flash, he had grabbed Mrs. Peel's arm and was struggling to the surface. His effort to save their lives was futile, for at that moment, a strong force began pulling them back down to the sea floor.

On the surface, Cathy spotted the eerie light and felt the boat rocking. "What's going on?" she demanded uneasily to no one in particular. "Richard, what should we do?"

"Try to find Emma and Steed in the water," Smyth barked to his beloved.

Cathy peered into the now turbulent waters, trying to find any sign of the two divers. Finally she spotted them, struggling to get to the surface. "I've found them, but there's no way of reaching them, even with this ladder!" she shouted.

"Then the only thing to do is to get ourselves to safety." Smyth's usually collected voice was becoming desperate.

"We can't leave them!" Mrs. Gale protested.

"They have enough oxygen to last them an hour. Maybe they can find a safe spot to wait out this—this storm." Smyth had no idea what to call the devastating phenomenon.

"I'm not leaving Emma, and I'm especially not leaving Steed, not after all he's done for me!" Cathy's noble gesture tugged at Richard's heart, but he wasn’t foolish enough to stay with her. However, he couldn't leave Cathy either.

After much debate, he decided to go to the shore for help. He told Cathy of his plans before he sped off in his boat. The last thing Richard saw before everything disappeared from view was his love, trying to steer her boat in the tumultuous sea.

Cathy gave up trying to steer the vessel and dropped the anchor. She then clung to the railing for dear life, hoping that the turbulence would soon pass.

Meanwhile, John Steed and Emma Knight were losing the battle with the Caribbean. They would swim to the surface, only to be dragged back down to the sandy floor. Emma realised that she was rapidly losing her strength and would not last much longer if they didn't reach safety. She tried to motion to Steed to warn him of her impending doom, but she was too weak.

With a final burst of energy, Emma swam to the surface. She braced her body, expecting to be pulled under, but nothing happened. The terrible blinding lights and strong current had completely stopped. She and Steed and outlived it all! With a little triumphant smirk, she dived back into the water. She had no intention of looking for the treasure now, but she had to find Steed.

However, Steed was nowhere to be seen. The fact was that Steed had swum to the boat and was now on board, waiting for Emma.

"You don't think she went back underwater?" Mrs. Gale asked after Emma had not shown herself.

Steed glared at her. "Don't be absurd! She knows better than to stay around danger, which is more than I can say for you! What were you thinking staying out here in this storm?”

In one moment, Cathy forgot all about her loyalty to Steed. "You're the one not thinking clearly! If she thought you were still underwater, unconscious, maybe dying, don't you think she might search the area before she got to safety?"

Steed had to agree that Mrs. Gale was right, as usual. Without saying a word, he put his mask back on, turned on the oxygen once more, and splashed back into the waters. In a short while he had reached the sunken ship. He quickly spotted the searching Emma and grabbed her by the arm.

Mistaking Steed for the enemy, Emma chopped him with a powerful karate stroke. Fortunately, the water prevented any damage from being done. She realised her mistake and willingly went with Steed.

Soon the two were on the surface again right next to Mrs. Gale's boat. They both flipped up their masks with one arm, keeping afloat by moving their other arm. "Pull her in!" Steed shouted. Cathy obligingly lowered the ladder for Emma.

Emma tiredly grabbed hold of the rope rungs. She began climbing the ladder, when suddenly she felt the boat moving slowly to the left. "I thought you anchored this thing, Mrs. Gale!" she cried as she plummeted back into the water.

"I did a while ago!" Cathy stared confusedly at the large anchor dragging across the sea's floor. Suddenly, the boat began moving faster to the left, and then faster and faster! "What kind of strong force can move a one ton anchor?" Cathy wondered to herself.

Steed looked about himself until he spotted the now all too familiar glow of the light in the water. Before he could stop himself he was moving to the left like the boat and going further underwater with each move. "It's a whirlpool!" he yelped. "Quickly, Mrs. Peel, into the boat!" Emma grabbed for the ladder again. Cathy lowered the ladder more, and Emma was finally able to climb aboard.

By this time the current was so strong that Steed was finding it difficult to keep afloat. Once more he pulled on his mask and flipped on his oxygen tank. These movements caused Steed to lose his ability to stay afloat, and he was pulled underwater.

"Steed!" Cathy and Emma shouted in alarm.

Emma grabbed Cathy's arm urgently. "We have to save him."

Cathy nodded her head, though she didn't know how they could. She brought up the anchor and steered the boat ten yards away from the whirlpool, where the two could devise a plan in safety.

Meanwhile, Steed was being spun madly around by the great force of the underwater tornado. Objects were flying by him so quickly, making him dizzier by the second. He tried to push grave thoughts of death aside, but at the moment, his future looked so bleak, death plagued his mind.

Suddenly, the lovely face of Emma was before him, making him stronger. In an instant he snapped out of his dismal state. He began to fight against the powerful whirlpool, inching his way to the top while the current was forever pulling him down to the floor. Darkness enshrouded him and he couldn't see anything in front of him; all he knew was he had to go up. Steed was muscular, though, and soon he could see the sun shining above him. In several more strokes he could see the motorboat. After a few more laps his head broke above the surface.

In the boat, Emma spotted Steed's head and cried, "There he is; move your boat towards him."

Cathy tried to maneuver the small vessel as close to the whirlpool as she could without being sucked in. She was no farther than three yards away from the whirlpool when she began to feel the current dragging the boat to its doom. "Hurry, Emma, before we're all sucked into the whirlpool!"

"I'm still thinking of a plan." Emma swirled around, swiping a piece of her wet hair off her face in agony. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a life preserver. With a little cry of relief, she grabbed the white ring and tossed it into the water near Steed's head.

Steed gratefully lunged for the buoy, but as his hands were about to touch it, the current pulled him under again. Petrified, Steed grappled to get to the surface once more. Arms thrashing wildly about him, he emerged from the water. His hands lashed the life preserver, and he quickly grabbed on to it. Emma and Cathy both used their strength to pull the exhausted Steed into the boat.

Once safely in the boat, Steed collapsed on the hard floor. Emma Peel lovingly removed his mask from his careworn face and switched off the air. They both sat there silently, each breathing heavily. John gazed into her face, a look of total relief mingled with adoration in his eyes. Emma returned the look, and the two gazed at each other until the boat reached port.

If Mrs. Gale had noticed their steadfast gaze, she made no comment. She merely steered the boat, keeping her eyes open for Smyth and the group of rescuers he had promised to bring with him. But she didn't see any sign of Smyth as she cruised back to the dock.

"Well," Mrs. Gale began when the three weary sailors were on shore, "What good was that whole trip? We nearly drowned ourselves for no reason. You realise that we are worse off than when we started?!"

"Please, Mrs. Gale, this is hardly the time to scold Steed. We've each made our share of mistakes in life." Mrs. Peel laid a supportive hand on Steed's limp arm.

Mrs. Gale softened considerably. "I apologise for being so abrupt. I'm just all nerves at the moment." She scanned the beach for her beloved Richard and finally found him among the many spectators. "Richard, we're over here!" she called as she waved her hands back and forth.

Richard bounded over to the wet and weary trio. "I'm sorry I didn't return with help, but my boat was harpooned by some angry fishermen!"

"Why would fishermen carry harpoon guns in their possessions?" Cathy wondered.

Smyth was about to reply when he noted Steed's haggard appearance. "Great Scot, Steed, you've gotten yourself in quite a jam, again!"

"I'll be my usual self after I've rested a bit." Steed tried to stand straight and tall, but he didn't have the energy.

"Miss Knight!" bellowed an urgent voice. Captain Weed shoved his way through the many bystanders who had gathered to watch the whirlpool. "I thought I saw ye among this crowd." He surveyed her soggy diving gear and exclaimed, "Don't tell me, ye was the one caught in the grasp of the curse this time?! I thought ye was into sailboatin’, not scuba divin’."

"I was going out with a friend, Mr. John Steed," Emma replied quickly.

"I see ye all are in no condition to do anything but sit. Come up to me lighthouse and rest a spell before ye go back to the hotel." Captain Weed nodded to the foursome in front of him and then motioned to his dilapidated house. Nobody was in the mood to protest, so they all followed the eccentric sailor.

Thirty minutes later, the Avengers were sitting in various chairs and on Captain Weed's sofa, eagerly sipping warm tea. Smyth had obtained their clothes, so the four were no longer in their wetsuits or bathing costumes. Everyone was warming up, except Steed, who shook considerably every time he stopped drinking his tea. He was also a nervous wreck from his deathly experience, which added to his shivering. Emma wasn't any better, really, for she was weak and nauseated, something she was growing accustomed to.

"There now, when ye have settled down a bit more, I'll bring out me favourite crab cake sandwich." Captain Weed smiled congenially at the exhausted crew.

Smyth, being a typical Englishman with finicky taste, whispered to Cathy, "Will I like this crab cake thing?"

Cathy silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Thank you for being so kind to us, Captain Weed."

"Tis nothin’, m’dear," the sailor answered. "Do any of ye need more tea?"

Despite her upset stomach, Emma was famished, so the prospect of more tea was distasteful. She really needed food, not more to drink. "Please, could we have our sandwiches now?"

The captain acquiesced and strolled into the kitchen. Catherine took this opportune time to speak spy business.

"About those fishermen, why do you think they harpooned your boat, Richard?"

"Perhaps they're not fishermen, but are in league with whoever or whatever is causing all of these deaths," Emma suggested.

"A very plausible explanation," Smyth responded in his most enthusiastic voice.

"Ah, fishing is a great sport," Steed declared sleepily. It was evident that he did not totally comprehend the conversation.

Captain Weed returned then, and they were forced to stop the discussion. "Here ye are, m’dears; now eat heartily." He presented them each with a crab cake sandwich and banana and pineapple chunks on the side.

"It looks very tropical," Steed unnecessarily said.

"Cathy, I have a keen aversion to pineapple," Richard informed everyone.

Emma realised that the captain looked ready to belt his ungrateful guests. Not wanting any more violence, she sprang to her feet and said, "My what a lovely collection of books you have!" She advanced to a rickety bookshelf to peer at its contents. " _ The Extraordinary Submarine _ , that sounds like a fascinating book."

"Aye, it is, though I wouldn't ever pilot one of those beastly contraptions. They're too dangerous, those submarines, runnin’ on nuclear power, totin’ torpedoes, wreakin’ havoc in the usual peaceful sea."

At the words, "wreakin’ havoc," three heads became very alert, Cathy's, Emma's, and Richard's. Steed was staring intently at his plate as if he expected his crab to get up and walk.

"Could a submarine cause a whirlpool?" Mrs. Gale asked, feigning a nonchalant air.

Captain Weed stared at her in surprise. "They most certainly cannot!"

There seemed little else to discuss about submarines, so Smyth decided to pursue another subject. "Are there many fishermen around here, Captain Weed?"

"No, not on this island; we earn our money mostly by tourism." Captain Weed watched in interest as Steed stood up and wandered over to the bookshelf. He seemed to be searching for a specific book and not having very good success in finding it. Abruptly, he gave an exultant cry and hurried back to his seat on the sofa. Emma followed him, sitting next to him.

"I was just wondering because I was attacked by two men in a boat. They had fishing nets and also several spare harpoon guns with them." Smyth waited for the sailor's response.

"What did ye do to incur their wrath?"

"I decided to get help for Miss Knight and Mr. Steed."

"Well, I be suspectin’ that your fisherman are those no good scallywag scientists!" Captain Weed nodded his head emphatically, causing his scraggly, white hair to bounce. "By the way, what were ye lookin’ for on that bookshelf, Mr. Steed?"

Everyone waited for a response, but none came. In the span of a few seconds, Steed had fallen asleep.


	6. Third Afternoon and Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma refuses an escort.  
> Steed is targeted.  
> Tara takes a nap.

Tara King marched resolutely up to the front desk of the tropical resort on Paradisa Island. "I would like a room, if it isn't inconvenient."

The receptionist smiled politely before replying, 'I'll see if we have any available." She glanced through her registration and said, "There are no suites available, but we have several rooms."

"It doesn't really matter," Tara quickly answered, lest the remaining rooms vanish in several seconds if she didn't hurry. While the desk clerk was booking Tara's room, she asked, "Would you mind looking up the room number of a friend of mine? The name is—"

"Why if it isn't our good friend, Tara!" exclaimed a voice. Catherine Gale emerged with Richard Smyth from a throng of busy vacationers. "We thought you were in England, working your pretty fingers to the bone."

"The same with Mother and Mitchell." Tara informed them. She grabbed the key from the outstretched hand of the receptionist and motioned to a nearby porter. The porter willingly carried her luggage to her hotel room, while Cathy and Smyth trailed behind, retelling the events of the day.

Once she had heard the terrifying accounts, Tara couldn't help exclaiming, "Poor Steed, being caught in that deadly current! We must make sure no more harm comes to him." Tara entered her room, sighing dismally over "her" Steed.

"We'll watch over Steed and Emma if you can watch _out_ for Mitchell," Smyth commanded. "If he took the same plane as you, he should be here any minute now.”

Tara reluctantly agreed, and the three went their separate ways, making a rendezvous for eight o'clock at the resort's nightclub.

Even though Cathy had told her that Steed was at Captain Weed's, Tara decided to examine his room. She wanted to be in Steed's room in case Mitchell arrived. He was certain to head to Steed's suite first, and when he did, Tara could dispose of him. She hurried to the suite floor of the resort. Soon she was outside Steed's room, surveying the area to make sure no one was watching. Firmly convinced that there were no snoops around other than herself, Tara quietly picked the lock and slipped inside.

After a long thirty minutes, Mitchell still hadn't arrived. Tara was about to leave, when she heard the door open. Cautiously, she hid behind a large bedroom curtain. She couldn't see anything, but she could hear tentative footsteps on the living room floor. They advanced nearer to her, until finally she could see the owner of the footsteps. It was whom she had expected: Agent Mitchell.

He examined the room carelessly until his eyes rested on the bedroom curtains. "I see your feet, whoever you are, so you might as well come out of there." Tara meekly stepped out, purse with the brick on hand.

Mitchell's eyes gawked at her confusedly until a glimmer of comprehension shone in them. "You're here to protect Steed and fiancee, aren't you? I'm here to separate the lovebirds permanently. It puts us in a rather awkward situation, doesn't it?" With this last inquiry, he lunged for her.

Tara swung her purse at him with every ounce of strength. It must have been quite a smack, for Mitchell toppled backwards unto the floor. Tara wasted no time but fled from the bedroom. She had almost reached the exit when Mitchell sped out of the bedroom and blocked her path. In desperation, Tara seized the nearest object, the telephone.

Mitchell stared at her for a moment before dissolving into a sardonic chuckle. As he grabbed for the telephone, Tara brought the object down on his head. As a result, the telephone's cord was ripped from the electric socket.

Enraged at the fact that the far less experienced spy was beating him, Mitchell grabbed Tara's slender neck and began choking her violently. The two struggled for a while before Tara collapsed onto the floor, unconscious. Mitchell merely smirked evilly as he searched the suite for a rope or something that could be used for similar purposes. When no rope could be found, he ripped down the cord from the curtains. He then proceeded to bind and gag his helpless victim.

Just as he was tying his handkerchief around Miss King's mouth, Tara revived. She stared wide-eyed at him and tried to murmur some sort of protest. "You'll have to speak louder than that, love!" Mitchell taunted her. After several seconds of Tara's continuous gurgling, he untied the handkerchief.

Tara gasped several times before she managed to spurt out, "If you'll untie me, I'll tell you where Steed is."

Mitchell meditated over the proposition for several seconds. "All right, where is Steed?"

"Untie me first, and I'll tell you."

Mitchell realised right away what Tara was doing. "No, tell me where Steed is, and then I'll let you go." When Tara made no response, he began fastening the handkerchief securely around her mouth again.

Tara was in a dilemma, for she knew that if she told Mitchell about Steed's location before he untied her, he could leave her bound and gag and find Steed. However, she could lie about Steed's whereabouts, which she did accordingly. "When last seen, Steed was by the pool, but that was about an hour ago."

"So you haven't seen him for an hour, how convenient," Mitchell replied sarcastically.

"You wanted the truth, didn't you?" Tara King countered.

Mr. Mitchell merely gagged Tara once more and fled to the door. "Sorry to leave you like this, love, but you were in my way. You just sit there and think lovely thoughts." Mitchell grabbed the "Do not disturb," sign and hung it on the door before departing.

The only thoughts that entered Tara's head as she sat on the hard floor were definitely not lovely.

****

Steed slept for several hours, and by the time he awoke, it was past six o'clock at night. Cathy and Richard had returned to the hotel, but Emma had stayed by his side, in a manner of speaking.

"Steed, I discovered something very interesting while you were asleep," Emma informed him as he groggily blinked numerous times. "Captain Weed was talking to Hardy Korall several minutes ago, and he didn't sound the least bit upset."

"Every man has his own price. Hardy Korall probably paid him several hundred pounds to tell him everything he needs to know, so now they are the closest comrades," Steed promptly replied. "Well, shall we be going?" Steed offered his arm to Emma, who gladly accepted it.

Soon the two were walking down the beach toward the resort. The sun had just set, and only a glow of light remained in hues of pink and oranges. Tourists were spotted here and there, returning to their resorts after watching the golden orb sink below the Caribbean Sea. But the beach was much more deserted than earlier, most vacationers leery of the warning from the native islanders about nocturnal alligators.

"I couldn’t make out what Weed and Hardy were saying," Emma confessed.

"We could always force it out of them." Steed stopped in his tracks and looked ready to return to the lighthouse.

“Let’s not be rash.” She swung her straw hat with her free arm. "I don't think he's a criminal any more than I think Mrs. Gale is my worst enemy."

"Do you want to know what I was looking for on Captain Weed's bookshelf?" Steed waited for Mrs. Peel's nod before continuing, "I was looking for other books about submarines, and I found seven."

"Seven books just about submarines? What could he possibly want to know about them?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm determined to find out."

The two traversed the rest of the beach in a thoughtful silence. They were within a quarter mile of the resort's property when they spotted Agent Mitchell advancing towards them. Steed and Emma immediately whirled around and strolled casually the other way, hoping Mitchell hadn't noticed them. Unfortunately, he had, and soon he was walking beside them.

"Aren't you going the wrong way?" he asked, feigning an air of indifference.

"We forgot Steed's bowler at Captain Weed's house," Emma lied evenly.

"Yes, and you know how I am: if one of my precious bowlers is missing, I can't sleep a wink!" Steed motioned for her to keep walking in the direction of the lighthouse.

"Now when did you start wearing bowlers with polo shirts and casual slacks?" Mitchell asked.

Steed and Emma faced him, smiling nervously. "Mrs. Peel, how could you make such a mistake?" Steed admonished.

"Well now that we've sort that little problem out, how about if I escort you both to the hotel? Miss Knight needs to pack her luggage, because she's going on a little trip." Mitchell linked his arm with the beautiful woman, eyeing her lustfully.

"You didn't tell me you were leaving!" Steed exclaimed, pretending to be ignorant of the whole situation.

"I've only just found out myself, actually!" Emma replied.

"It appears to me that you're the only one who's going to be taking a little trip!" Steed informed Mitchell. With great precision and quickness, he grabbed Mitchell's legs and pulled them out from under him. Mitchell lay on the beach, barely moving, the wind knocked out of him.

Steed and Emma hurried in the direction of the resort once more. In a short duration, Mitchell had dragged himself to his feet and had caught up with the twosome. He pulled on Steed's arm, hindering him from escaping. With a powerful surge, he punched Steed squarely in the nose.

Steed returned the gesture by socking him in the breadbasket followed immediately by a strong hit in the jaw. Emma quickly joined the brawl, chopping Mitchell in the neck with a powerful karate stroke.

Mitchell turned upon Mrs. Peel, ready to pounce on the amateur sleuth. He grabbed her wrists, trying his best to twist them fully around. Emma gritted her teeth against the immense amount of pain that seared through her arms. She managed to grab hold of his own wrist with her throbbing hands, and with several swift maneuvers she flipped him onto the sand. Out of breath, Mitchell forced out a moan of pain as he struggled to his feet. He never made it, though. He collapsed onto the golden sand and laid still.

The Avengers cautiously approached the inert body, prodding it gently with their feet. Once satisfied that their opponent was unconscious, Steed hefted the limp man unto his shoulders and carried him to the hotel's doctor's office. Emma followed closely behind Steed, casually swinging her hat as if knocking out people was an everyday occurrence, which it was for her. After some brief instructions on what to do with Mitchell, Steed and Mrs. Peel left him in the capable hands of the nurse.

Emma Peel retreated into her suite shortly thereafter, declaring that she was going to soak in a bubble bath until dinner. Steed was likewise ready to relax, but he wasn't going to have that privilege. As soon as he entered his hotel room, he spotted the unfortunate Tara. She was still bound and gagged, but she looked sound asleep.

"Tara, my dear girl, whatever happened?" Steed knelt on the ground and began untying the hapless victim.

Tara stirred from her light slumber and raised a bleary eyelid. As soon as her eyes rested on Steed, she gave a little cry of excitement. "Mitchell tied me up, and now he's looking for you."

"I know; I met Mitchell on the beach. I dare say he'll be out of commission for quite some time." Steed went over to his window and opened it to allow some fresh air into the stuffy room.

"I trust you didn't leave him on the beach!" Tara cried.

"Of course not; he's downstairs in the doctor's surgery."

"When the doctor mends him, he'll just come after you again!"

"I don't think we need worry about that. The doctor happens to be a very good friend of mine. He'll know what to do with Agent Mitchell, so don't worry your pretty little head over anything."

As Steed finished speaking, a loud noise emerged from his partly opened window. The two spies curiously advanced to the window and peered out in order to examine the situation. Tara and Steed beheld Hardy Korall, waiting patiently for Waverly, who appeared several seconds later.

"You'd better get back," Steed warned Tara protectively. She meekly obeyed, and waited on his sofa as Steed listened to their conversation.

"I just wanted to remind you that we meet by the lighthouse at midnight!" Korall sternly gazed into his accomplice's eyes, waiting for a nod. "We'd better not meet here anymore. I think we’re being watched."

Steed slowly crept away from the glass, but it was too late. Korall detected movement from Steed's window and looked up just as he sneaked away into the shadows. "Waverly," Korall began slowly and evilly, "find out who’s staying in that hotel room and kill him."

Steed, ignorant of Korall's order for Waverly to dispose of him, escorted Tara to the door, promising to see her later. The two stepped into the hallway and were surprised to see Martin King knocking on Emma Peel's door.

Dr. King gazed carelessly around the hall until he spotted Steed and Tara. With a little start of surprise, he asked, "What are you doing, spying over there?"

"You just answered the question yourself," Steed retorted. "Actually I was just wondering what on earth you're doing here instead of working at your surgery."

"I'm off duty; it's another doctor's turn to take care of the patients." King was about to knock on the door again, when Steed made an unsatisfied "tsking" noise.

"This won't do at all. Do you realise I sent a patient to the surgery, so you could treat him?" Steed demanded.

"Thank you for your patronage, but my business is doing fine without you finding patients for me," King tranquilly informed him.

"But that patient needs to be dealt with immediately! He wants to harm Mrs. Peel, take her back with him to England."

"Mother wants Agent Mitchell to separate Steed and her permanently," Tara added.

Steed stared at Tara in alarm. "I wasn't aware of that part!"

King heaved an exasperated sigh as he asked, "What's the fellow's name?"

"Agent Rutherford P. Mitchell."

"And what am I supposed to do with him?"

"Hide him somewhere where nobody can find him until we're finished with this investigation."

King gave a dismayed cry and shook his head. "You know what you're asking me to do is kidnap the fellow, and I won't have any part of it."

"Please, Doctor," Tara entreated him, "it would only be for a few days, and nobody needs to know about it. If you could take him to your house…"

"I don't know how I always get talked into these dangerous schemes, but all right. I'll see what I can do—after I speak to Miss Knight." Martin King promptly knocked on the door again.

"Why is it so urgent that you speak to her?" Steed enquired.

"I think I’ve figured out what's wrong with her, and I just wanted to tell her the news."

"Just give me the message, and I'll tell her," Steed suggested.

"Thank you, but no, I'd rather give her the information myself." Dr. King's voice had turned icy in several seconds. "Doctor-Patient confidentiality."

Steed thought it best to change the subject, which he did quite smoothly with the comment, "Dr. King, I don't believe you know Miss Tara King; Tara, this is Dr. Martin King, an old associate of mine."

Dr. King remembered Miss Knight’s conversation from yesterday and how she knew Miss King was in love with Steed. He had to wonder what Miss King was doing coming out of Steed’s bedroom. Steed really was the biggest cad! He decided to keep that opinion to himself and merely murmured his  _ how do you do's _ . He knocked once more and then sighed as he realised that Emma was not going to make an appearance. He decided to return to the surgery to carry out Steed's plan.

"Dr. King," Tara called after him, "we're meeting several friends of ours for dinner tonight at eight o'clock at the nightclub. We'd be so happy if you'd join us as well."

King gazed warily at Steed, who had his head down as if he disapproved of Tara's invitation. "I'll see if I can make it, but, remember, I have a man I must kidnap and care for." With that biting remark, King marched out of view.


	7. Third Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma takes a midnight stroll.  
> Steed is number one.

Doctor King didn’t join them for dinner but found them afterwards for drinks. After Steed introduced everybody, the six spies, amateur and professional, settled back to enjoy a relaxing evening. Steed and Emma hastily informed everyone of the latest developments, and then they all began having leisurely discussions with one another. Smyth and Steed discussed the itinerary for the next day, while Dr. King and Mrs. Gale spent the hour comparing their doctor degrees. Miss Knight and Miss King listened in on whatever conversation they liked.

"I've never met an anthropologist before," King told Mrs. Gale admiringly.

"Well, it's nothing that special," Cathy told him, blushing with each word.

Smyth frowned a little at King's obvious attention to his girlfriend and stopped talking in mid-sentence.

"You were saying, Smyth?" Steed prodded.

"Oh yes, we can't hire any more boats from the pier, because the owner is convinced that it was my fault that the boat got harpooned."

"How are we supposed to investigate if we have no mode of transportation?" Steed shook his head, evidently displeased at this turn of events. Suddenly he smiled as a plan formed in his head. "I know a certain person who may be able to lend us her boats, Miss Larraine Crabbe!"

"We have no idea if she is responsible for these deaths," Emma reminded him.

"Then I guess we'll find out tomorrow when I ask her for the use of her boats," Steed replied confidently.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer for the nightclub began, "I proudly present Miss Rhiannon Lake." A gorgeous singer stepped onto a brightly lit stage.

Over the loud applause Steed joked, "I was half expecting Venus Smith to come out and sing. That would have made this a big happy reunion."

"Just so you all know," King started, "I’d like to be home by midnight. I need all the rest I can get before I start work tomorrow."

"Midnight . . ." Steed repeated, deep in thought. He snapped his fingers as he recalled a vital clue. "Yesterday and just a little while ago in my room, I overheard Hardy Korall say that he and his men were going to start looking for the treasure tonight at midnight over by the lighthouse."

"That leaves us only two more hours to enjoy ourselves if we want to see what they're up to," Tara remarked as she glanced at her watch.

"Let's all finish our drinks, and then go to either Steed's or my suite to come up with a suitable plan," Emma suggested. The proposition was readily accepted, and in twenty minutes, the sextet was lounging in Steed's hotel room.

"Now, who should be the one or ones to spy on the group?" Emma poured a plentiful glass of brandy for Steed and handed it to him.

"I think the most experienced agent should go," Smyth declared, hurrying up to the bar to get a drink for himself.

"Splendid, then I'll just slip out of this suit and into something more appropriate for walking on a beach," Steed replied, not realising how arrogant he sounded.

Trying to control her temper, Cathy remarked, "You know, Steed, not everyone here thinks that you are the most experienced operative."

Steed nearly dropped his brandy glass as he said, "Surely you're not suggesting that Smyth is the best?"

"That's exactly what we're saying," Cathy snapped. Smyth, Steed, and Mrs. Gale immediately began arguing the point, much to the chagrin of the other three.

"Why don't we two just do the investigating?" Tara asked Miss Knight. "It certainly would save us a whole lot of trouble.”

"That's a fine idea, but how do we tell those three that?" Emma nodded her head towards the squabbling trio.

"No, Miss Knight, I insist you stay here, and somebody else go!" Martin King said.

Steed stopped short at this comment and pronounced, "Mrs. Peel is an excellent agent, and unlike you, she doesn't get caught!"

Emma realised that another argument was about to begin and quickly added, "Every operative, regardless how good they are, gets caught at least once in their career."

"It's settled then: Mrs. Peel and I will go investigate Hardy Korall and his crew." Steed sipped his brandy and leaned back on his couch.

"You're insufferable, John Steed!" Cathy shouted angrily.

"Thank you, my dear!" Steed replied, unfazed by the insult.

"Steed, I'll be in my room getting ready for later," Emma informed him. She quit his suite and entered her own. She changed into her black catsuit with the silver lining and the large silver zipper down the front. She would camouflage much better in the shadows in that outfit.

Emma leaned back on her sofa, closing her eyes. She would only rest a little bit before her outing… 

****

Emma awoke with a start and glanced apprehensively at a nearby clock. She relaxed as she noted that the time was ten minutes to midnight. She hadn't slept through the mission, as she had feared.

She grabbed an electric torch, exited her room, and knocked on Steed's door. She could hear raised voices inside. Tara opened the door and breathlessly informed her, "Steed and Smyth are still arguing over who should be the one to go. I thought they had settled the matter when we began playing cards an hour ago, but now…Steed wants you to go ahead, and he or Smyth will meet you at the site."

Emma shrugged and ventured out into the dark night. She trudged gingerly down the beach, making sure not to trip on rocks or shells. Several times she was certain she had spotted an alligator, or some other unsavory creature lying on the sand, but when she flashed her light on the object, it was merely driftwood or brush of some kind.

After what seemed an interminable amount of walking, Emma heard voices and saw numerous dim figures preparing to go out to sea in their dinghies. She quickly shut off her torch and crouched low in the sand. The men held their own torches in their one hand as their other hand busily worked to get ready for departure. She watched this procedure with great interest from a distance, wondering why they were looking for treasure at night in small boats. Did the whirlpools not happen at night?

"All right, men, let's go!" bellowed the familiar voice of Hardy Korall. As his men started their dinghies' outboard motors, he hopped into his own boat. The little watercrafts cruised out into the Caribbean, their engines droning like dozens of angry bees.

Mrs. Peel's gaze followed the boats until it rested on what appeared to be a large ship just below the horizon. She couldn't tell what sort of ship it was or why Korall's dinghies were heading towards it. For five minutes, she watched the boats speed along the water before they finally reached the craft. About six men climbed aboard while the rest steered the dinghies in the opposite direction of the ship.

The ship sailed for several miles before it mysteriously vanished into a mist that lay heavily over the water. After countless minutes, some of the men in the little cruisers held onto their waterproof torches tightly and dove into the water. The remaining men just sat in the boats, keeping them from drifting away from the diving spot. The men were ready to assist their partners if the need arose.

Meanwhile, as Emma was spying on divers, Waverly approached Steed's suite, clutching a revolver. He hid himself in the shadows, hoping that Mr. John Steed, the tenant of the room, would appear soon. He had to kill Steed before he returned to the excavation site, or Professor Korall would be furious.

Just then, a man dressed in dinner clothes appeared from the suite. Waverly quickly surveyed the man: tall, dark brown hair, distinguished suit—yes, this was definitely Steed. He would recognise the back of his head anywhere. With a nervous smile, he hid the gun and followed Steed down the hall and out of the building.

The two stayed in the shadows as they travelled down the beach towards the lighthouse. Waverly stopped for a moment, confused. Steed was heading straight toward where Korall's men were searching for treasure! He had to kill Steed now before he reached the site.

Waverly sneaked closer to the man until he could hear him breathing. Then, he removed the gun from his coat pocket, placed a silencer over the mouth, and pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. "That'll stop your snooping, John Steed!" Waverly cried before he ran off into the darkness.

The spy slumped to the ground, writhing in pain. He clutched at his throat, as the blood began to flood into his mouth. The stupid murderer had missed twice, hitting flesh in his back, but the last bullet had pierced his lungs. Quickly, knowing death was near, the weak man wrote out a message in the sand with his own blood… 

Emma stayed stationed in the sand for almost a full half-hour, hoping to see any sign of activity other than the bobbing of the dinghies as they were pushed by the waves. After a half an hour of no results, she decided it was time to retire. Frustrated and exhausted, she headed back to the resort. To add to her aggravation, she was exceedingly exasperated with Steed and Smyth's childish behavior. Because of their argument, neither one of them had come to help her investigate.

Emma Peel did not often get angry with her partner in crime fighting and fiance, John Steed, but this time he had exceeded his limits. She marched resolutely down the beach, ready to lecture him. She had almost reached the resort property when she stumbled upon something long and warm. Shining her torch directly below, she peered at the ground to discover a fresh, bloody corpse, face down in the sand. With a look of repulsion planted on her face, Emma examined the body. She determined that he had been shot 3 times and had died within the last half hour.

Suddenly an eerie thought dawned on her: she knew this man. Emma trembled, and her blood chilled as she carefully rolled the body over. She tried to stop the dizziness and the nausea that filled her as she stared at the twisted countenance of the corpse, the late Richard Smyth.


End file.
